


Moving On

by ashanti01



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Time, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-09-25 13:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 46,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashanti01/pseuds/ashanti01
Summary: After he is forced to flee France, Erik begins a new life in Imperial Russia. As he adapts to his new opulent surroundings, he begins to discover there is life after Christine…





	1. Prologue

Prologue

Paris, 1880

Prince Nicholas Alexandrovich Alexandrov sat completely entranced by the emotional display on the stage. The performance had taken an unexpected and profoundly intimate turn as the male soprano took the hands of the lovely Miss Daaé. Never had he witnessed such an poignant performance, captivated by the unfolding drama before him, he was quite stunned when in a swift move the mask was removed. Like the rest of the audience an astonished gasp escaped his lips as he observed the disfigurement which afflicted only one side of the man's face. From the corner of his eye he noticed the officers hurrying towards the stage. In a blink of eye the disfigured soprano leaned forward and promptly cut a rope before both figures miraculously disappeared from the stage.

"Impossible." He whispered as a sudden rumbling began deafening the surprised cries echoing in the theater. His head snapped up to the source of the sound as he realized the rumbling was coming from the ceiling. Instantly, pieces of the ceiling began to break away as the chandelier suddenly began to descend.

From his private box, he observed as the horrified audience urgently attempted to escape its path, but for some, it was unfeasible. The force of the impact caused his box to vibrate violently. He turned his attention back to the stage to see various officers whose faces mirrored the same bewildered expressions as the audience.

It was the smell of smoke alerted him to the most pressing danger. His gaze went to where the chandelier had crashed, the fire was rapidly spreading; without hesitating; he began to make his way out of the theatre.

Once outside he found aristocrats and beggars a like standing in stone silence as they witnessed the destruction of the great Opera Garnier. A knot formed in his chest as he watched the home of some of his most cherished memories disintegrate before his very eyes.

Had she managed to escape? Anger and panic began to swell within him as he realized he failed to ensure her safety. He looked around desperate to see her face among the faces of those gathered around him. It was only then, he spotted a lone figure in the street. For a moment, he forgot his surroundings, as a familiar pang invaded his heart.

His feet slowly began to move on their own accord as various emotions surged through him. She had changed little over the years, he mused as he observed her. Perhaps it was the nostalgic longing for the past which prevented him from seeing her as anything less than beautiful, yet there was no denying there was a significant bond which would always bind them.

As though sensing his presence, she turned around, her eyes locking with his. For the first time in years, he found himself face to face with Antoinette Giry.

"Nicky." He smiled at the use of his old nickname, stirring dormant emotions long buried but never forgotten. As his lips prepared to part to utter a greetings, he noted her trembling hands.

"Antoinette, what is wrong?" he gently took her hands in his, attempting to alleviate her trembling. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm waiting," she looked back to the burning building. He noted her flushed face and widened eyes, underlining her vulnerability.

"Waiting?" He probed gently hoping enough trust existed between them for her to share her concerns.

"Meg she went-"Her voice trembled, "I mean I asked her to-"

"Please calm yourself," He urged as he placed a hand on her cheek. She lowered her eyes from his gaze but otherwise did not flinch away from his touch. She slowly nodded as she took a moment to compose herself. "Come now; explain to me what is wrong," and thus he listened as his Antoinette began to tell a tangled tale of a masked genius whose dejected passion had brought about the devastation around them.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

Erik frantically hurried through the murky tunnel. He was certain the embittered mob would soon locate the entrance to his secreted passage. It was critical he place as much distance between himself and the lair he had considered home for so many years. Even as he raced through the darkness, his thoughts continued to linger on Christine.

For a moment, just a moment, he had believed she had chosen him. His heart had foolishly swelled with hope and joy. It was only when he saw her guilt-ridden eyes that he noticed the ring in her hand. His heart shattered once more when he realized she had only returned to return his gift. He clenched the ring even harder, his eyes burning with anger, resentment and disenchantment. His Christine had chosen that boy.

"Erik!"

He froze at the sound of his name. So few knew his name, yet only one would dare use it. He'd recognize her voice anywhere. Slowly he turned to see Madame Giry rushing towards him. He kept his hand firmly on the marred side of his face as she approached him.

"Come with me; quickly!" His eyes narrowed as she reached for his hand.

"So you may feed me to the mob?" He hissed venomously as he recoiled from her touch.

"Erik, please listen! I'm trying to help you-"

"Help me?" He sneered, "You! The only person I have trusted, have betrayed me like the rest!"

"Erik!" she frantically attempted to reason, "Listen to me, please! Do you believe I would have betrayed you? I feared for you both, and acted according to my conscious. I never wanted any of this for you Erik," the desperation in her voice made him realize the sincerity of her words, "Please allow me to help you."

"Leave me to my fate," he whispered softly, "I'm beyond your help Antoinette."

"I have a friend who can help you. He is our only hope."

"You expect me to trust in a stranger?"

"Erik, I beg you! Listen to me! You must leave Paris, you cannot remain here. This man will not betray you; he has the means to facilitate your escape. Please, accept his assistance!"

He looked at her with hatred. At that moment, he hated her; he hated Raoul, Christine, life itself. He knew she spoke the truth when she said he had to leave Paris. His bruised heart had risked it all on an ill-fated hand, and now he was left without a home, his art, and Christine. He had lost everything he had held sacred. There was nothing left for him Paris. Without resources and alternatives, he realized he had little choice but depart his beloved Paris.

"Very well, Madame, I will accept this assistance, but I swear if you have deceived me, I will unleash my vengeance not on you but upon your daughter." Madame Giry paled, but her gaze never wavered from his as she nodded.

"Come with me."

*******************************************************************************************************************************

Nicholas paced back and forth before his carriage. He should have gone with her, to fetch her so called ward. She had insisted he remained there, claiming his presence would do more harm than good. It had been some time, and with every passing minute, his anxiety intensified. Antoinette had seemed certain no harm would come to her. Despite her assurances, he felt her faith was perhaps ill placed. After all, had he not just witnessed the aftermath of the man's volatile temperament? Despite his reservations about the man in question, her emotional plea made him realize Antoinette genuinely cared for the man. A twinge breached his heart as he pondered the depth of her affections.

He pushed the covetous thoughts aside as he resolved to fulfill his word. After what seemed like an eternity, Antoinette and a man emerged cautiously from the shadows. He glanced at the wretched soul who had a hand firmly over part of his face. Seeing the man's disheveled and ragged appearance, arose his empathy. This hardly appeared to be same proud soprano who had performed with such zealousness earlier in the evening. The man before him was broken.

"Erik this is my friend Nicholas," she introduced, "he will help you."

"Please come quickly, we do not have much time." Nicholas urged as he handed his cloak to the man and opened the door to his carriage. He hesitated for a moment, turning to Antoinette who gave him a gentle encouraging nod.

"Hurry we must have you depart before someone sees you." He said nothing only providing Antoinette long glance before climbing in.

"Antoinette," Nicholas took her hand and kissed it tenderly. A faint blush appeared across her face, "I will send word of our safe journey," He observed her for a moment, "I wish-," She hushed him as her fingertips came over his lips, nodding in silent understanding. Loathing to be parted after such a brief encounter, he realized there was no time to spare. He quickly climbed into his carriage and instructed his driver to head for the train station. They were to depart for Russia at once.


	2. Alone in Paris

Chapter One: Alone in Paris

Countess Tatiana Nikolaevna Feodrova walked along the garden lamenting yet another missed opportunity to return home. She had hoped to visit her father; yet Vladimir had denied her permission, insisting her place was to remain at his side. He seemed particularly averse to traveling home; claiming all they needed was here in Paris. Paris was a city she had always enjoyed visiting as a child, yet the same sentiments could not be applied now that she resided in the city permanently. She felt very much a foreigner, despite knowing the language and customs of the land. Vladimir, however, thrived in the city. He adored the Parisian lifestyle and sought to enjoy the Parisian nights as much as possible, with or without her at his side.

Tatiana had long ago ceased to care about society and the luxuries her elevated social position afforded her. Her disinterest angered her perplexed husband who continuously showered her with gowns and jewelry, both items she did not desire nor need. She had come to realize her disinterest stemmed from her lack of enthusiasm when it came to duties relating to her role as wife. Despite everyone's persistent claims her marriage would flourish with time, it had become evident it was floundering. She was neither ignorant nor blind to the whispers and speculations surrounding her marriage. She merely chose to follow her husband's lead and ignore them.

She finished gathering her roses and began to walk back towards the house. Vladimir would be returning home shortly. He was adamant they attend an intimate dinner party. Although, a dinner party for fifty could hardly be called intimate, it was preferable to the usual boisterous acquaintances Vladimir favored. She stopped before the foyer, handling the basket to one of the servants.

"Please have these placed in my sitting room in the vase by the window." She instructed as she removed her hat and handed it to the servant before dismissing them with a wave of her hand. Catching a glimpse of her reflection she paused before the gilded the mirror that hung in the foyer. She was standing before a stranger, she realized.

"Where is the girl everyone hailed as the most attractive debutante of the year?" she whispered to herself.

She had married young, but it was not an uncommon occurrence in her family. Generations of girls married off before they reached adulthood in the name of family and duty. Her own father had married for duty, she was no different except she had been naive enough to believe she would have a say in electing her husband. She smirked as she thought back to various suitors her father had presented before her. She had been courted by many men from all over Europe. Many lured by the promise of a great fortune. She had been in no hurry to marry, at least not any of the men who had openly sought her hand. They had inspired suspicion in her, and as a result she had turned her nose at all offers, adamant she would marry someone of worth. Her poor exasperated father believed all the choices has been worthy, failing to understand she was not interested in their titles. The irony was not lost on her when at last she believed to have found the man worthy of her hand; he was both penniless and title-less.

Alexander Orloff. She smiled remembering the handsome officer who had captivated her heart. For six beautiful memorable months he had discreetly courted her through heartfelt letters. Often expressing his regret over his inability to articulate his feelings properly. He had failed to see, it was one of the many reason's she had adored him. It was not uncommon for her thoughts to seek comfort in the dreams of her youth; for it was a respite from her disenthralled existence.

"Where have you been?" A dispassionate voice asked as she entered the sitting room.

"I was gathering some flowers for my bedroom," she quietly replied as she met her husband's eyes.

"We have servants for such inconsequential tasks," He eyed her suspiciously before motioning her to approach. A knot formed in her stomach as she approached him. "You seem troubled," He said in a deceptively soft voice that caused the hairs on her neck to rise. His hand reached forward to lift her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes, "What is going behind those beautiful cornflower eyes of yours?"

"I was simply thinking of my father." She partially confessed as she stared into his unwavering hazel eyes.

"You're attachment to your father is becoming ridiculous."

"He is my only fam-"

"I'm your husband, and as such I am your family now." His gripped tightened around her jaw. "I'm beginning to wonder if you need a reminder as to where your sense of duty and loyalty should rest with."

"My loyalty is to you and you alone," she whispered with a slight tremor in her voice, "I know my place."

His hold loosed as his hand moved to rest against her cheek. "My beautiful and clever girl," his lips twitched, "I may yet be able to mold you into the dutiful wife I've always desired." Tatiana said nothing as her heart beat wildly against the confines of her chest. "You will be a sight to behold this evening," he removed his hand slowly from her face, "I expect us ready to depart at seven."

"I will be ready." She blandly promised as she watched him retreat from the room. She instantly dropped to the nearest chair, her hand moving over her heart as to will it to cease its frantic pace.

Despite the slight trembling of her lip, she did not cry. She refused to cry. She had discovered fairly early on in her marriage, tears resulted in nothing except yielding more tears. Vladimir did not care for dramatics as he so eloquently explained to her at the start of their marriage. He was very forthcoming with his desires of what an ideal wife should be. He wanted an admirable wife, and she sought to sustain an agreeable if albeit distant relationship between them by yielding to his wishes.

Two gentle hands came to rest on her shoulders. She turned to see Olga, her maid, at her side. Her eyes were filled with concern and pity.

"Are you well, Madame?"

"Yes," she lied quickly composing herself, "if you'd be so kind as to assist me in preparing for this evenings dinner." She stood from her seat with an amicable smile as she looked at Olga.

"The Count had already selected the gown for this evening."

"Of course he has." She mumbled under breath as she motioned for Olga to follow her upstairs.


	3. Journey North

Chapter Two: Journey North

Erik had no memory of ever traveling by train, even if he had; it was unlikely he had ever traveled in anything resembling the opulent private railroad Saloon car he was currently seated in. It was decorated in elegantly gilded carved wood which contrasted beautifully with the dark velvet used on the seats and curtains. There were scattered plants throughout the Saloon, which helped create a rather domestic setting. The Saloon was only one of the carriages which appeared to belong exclusive to his host. There were other carriages, one housing their bedrooms, another appeared to be solely for the comfort of the staff. The space they currently occupied appeared to serve as a sitting area which provided adequate spacing for a family to travel in, yet it was only himself and his host occupying the generous space. He was not ignorant of the luxuries many aristocrats were privy to; however, he was aware of the difference between the wealthy and the very wealthy. The man currently seated across from him undoubtedly belonged to latter.

Although, no formal titles had been exchanged in their brief introduction, Erik recognized an aristocrat when he saw one. Years of emulating the wealthy who frequented the Opera house had given him a talent for detecting certain traits. Nicholas displayed all mannerisms of someone born into a world of splendor. It wasn't his wealth that betrayed his heritage but his noble bearing. His clothing was immaculate; he recognized a well tailored suit as much as he knew the back of his hand. Nicholas had spoken French flawlessly however, occasionally a slight accent made itself known. He was a foreigner, yet was well versed in the etiquette of French customs. Erik observed as Nicholas reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a gold watch. It was engraved in a language he did not recognize.

A servant approached him with a cup of tea in his hands. A moment of panic flooded him as his hand went to his face, only to touch bandages. In lieu of a mask Nicholas had bandaged his face, claiming he had no other means to offer on hand. He had graciously accepted the bandages, preferring to shield his face than to remain exposed. The servant said something in a foreign tongue before nodding in encouragement as he extended the cup to him. Erik eyed the man suspiciously, unaccustomed to being tended to in such a manner, even less being treated without prejudice.

"They have no reason to fear you, Monsieur." Nicholas explained politely.

"They should."

"Do you wish them to fear you?"

"I don't know." Erik confessed as he slowly took the cup of tea from the servant's hand. "Thank you."

"He does not understand French, I'm afraid."

"How do I say thank you in a language he will understand?"

"Spasibo."

"Spasibo." The servant smiled and bowed before retreating.

"You're Russian?"

"I am."

"I suppose that would explain why we are traveling north."

"Are you adverse to my home country?"

"Not at all, although, I'm afraid I do not have the adequate wardrobe for the climate."

"Fear not, Monsieur," Nicholas smiled softly. "You may utilize what you require from my wardrobe until we are able to reach the tailor in Saint Petersburg."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes." Erik took a sip from the tea, savoring the taste.

"Is it so difficult to believe someone can extend a helping hand without seeking anything in return?"

"In my experience, it's very difficult to believe."

"Madame Giry told me much about you," Nicholas inhaled deeply, "her emotional turmoil over your impending fate was enough to sway my decision to assist you."

"How do you know Madame Giry?"

"We were once engaged."

Erik's eyebrows rose slightly at the revelation. He prided himself in knowing everything about those who worked in the Opera house, the fact this small piece information had somehow escaped his notice irked him. It rattled him even more to know Madame Giry had been able to keep such secrets from him. He had always been under the belief there existed no secrets between them, naively perhaps, but he had believed her to be as much his confident as he was hers.

"Does our previous engagement upset you?" Nicholas inquired.

"Not exactly," Erik placed his cup down, "I merely taken aback by the news. She never mentioned you." Erik noticed Nicholas appeared to flinch at the news, before nodding slightly.

'I suppose I cannot say I'm completely surprised to learn she's omitted to mention my name to those close to her." His voice carrying a slight twinge that had not been there previously, "I have much to amend for."

"You are only helping me because of her," Erik whispered in realization.

"I owe her a debt."

Erik remained silent as he observed the man who claimed to have once been engaged to his long time ally. The man appeared to be decent enough, he had to admit. He had offered him a means of escape and shelter, and despite his suspicious nature, he found himself eerily at ease around the nobleman. He could not fault Antoinette for concealing her amorous past, the discreet yet poignant exchange between Antoinette and Nicholas at the train station had spoke volumes. Whatever occurred between them, he was sure he would eventually learn the truth, for now it was enough to know whatever sense of loyalty Nicholas had toward Antoinette was likely to extend to him.

"How long until we reach our destination?" Erik inquired as he looked out the window. The passing scenery being engraved into his memory as he realized it was unlikely he would ever be able to return to his adopted home country.

"Three days, perhaps four if we prolong our stop in Germany."

"What will happen when we arrive in Russia?"

"It's up to you, Monsieur. You are welcomed to stay at my estate as my guest for as long as you like, or you may go your separate way."

"How do I know you will not betray me?"

"I believe if I wanted to I could have already," Nicholas replied honestly, "I'm a man of my word, Erik, and a man's most valuable asset is his word."

Erik did not know what to make of this man. He almost seemed too good to be true. Despite his misgivings he trusted his instincts, and his instincts were inclined to believe Nicholas. It was fairly obvious Nicholas was a man of integrity, and as with most gentleman, they placed much value on their word. He believed Nicholas would not break whatever oath he had made to Antoinette Giry.

"Monsieur if I may ask, what is your name?"

"Erik."

"Do you have a last name?"

"No."

"Well…," Nicholas coughed slightly as shifting uncomfortably in his seat, "is there a last name you would like to identify yourself with?"

"Why are you asking this?"

"We are not too far from the border. They will ask for your surname."

"What about identification?"

"Do not worry about identification. I shall tend to the matter personally," he said as he began adjusting his shirt.

"I suppose I will use Giry."

"It's a good name," Nicholas smiled causing the lines around his eyes to crinkle. He noted his unusual blue eyes. Granted he had seen blue eyes before but Nicholas possessed a very unique blue pair which contrasted with his caramel skin tone. It was not difficult to imagine Nicholas to have been a very handsome man in his youth, for in truth, despite his advanced age, he still retained a handsome profile and physique. He could understand how a young Antoinette Giry had managed to succumb to his charm. If it wasn't for the weariness that weighed heavily upon him, he'd smile in amusement.

***********************************************************************************************************************************

Nicholas found himself with a rather peculiar guest who seemed to yearn for nothing except for his solitude. He had never been one to invade one's personal space and saw no reason to begin now. In the two days since their departure from Paris, they had spoken a handful of times. Although, Erik initially appeared weary of his intentions, he now appeared almost indifferent. Antoinette had warned him Erik was a complex man whose unusual upbringing had greatly affected his ability to trust. He found himself agreeing with Antoinette's assessment; however he also believed given Erik's intricate life, one could hardly have expected different results to have been yielded. Erik was very much a product of years of cruelty and neglect.

He shook his head in disgust before glancing out of his window. They were to arrive in Saint Petersburg in a few hours. There would be much do to when they arrived. Despite not having declared his intentions, Nicholas was confident Erik would remain with him as his guest. He would need to wire Antoinette and advise her of their safe arrival, and then he would need to send word to the tailor to visit his home. Erik needed clothing, and a mask. He had regrettably had no mask to offer when Erik had pitifully requested one shortly before their departure from Paris. The best he had been able to offer were bandages. Erik appeared to appreciate the gesture, while he burned with shame for having to cover the poor man's face. He was not disturbed by the disfigurement, at least not after the initial shock has subsided. Yet no amount of reassurances had swayed Erik when he insisted on covering his face, and he had relented to the bandaging.

When he decided to visit Paris, he never could have imagined the turn of events that would occur in one night. He had traveled to Paris with two intentions; the first was to pay a belated visit to Antoinette Giry.

Despite having remained in contact through correspondence over the years, neither had sought the other out. It was a silent and mutual understanding between them. The recklessness of his youth still hung heavily between them. She had forgiven but never forgotten, and he could not begrudge her for it. He sighed heavily as he pulled his gold pocket watch from his pocket. It opened to reveal a miniature portrait of his daughter. The daughter he had failed to visit due to his hasty retreat from Paris.

He did not resent Erik for the missed opportunity to visit his daughter. Everything is God's will, as his own mother would often recite. He would find an occasion to visit her soon enough, the most pressing matter on hand however, was tending to the wounded man under his care. The same man who had spent years living underground as though he were some repulsive rodent. It is not surprising Erik had sought companionship after leading such a solitary life.

Nicholas had neither the heart nor right to broach the subject of Miss Daee. The lovely girl with an angelic voice was hundreds of miles away, yet her name weighed heavily in the air. Neither man had discussed the incident at the Opera house. Emotions and wounds were still raw and Erik was carrying his afflictions quite close to his sleeve. Still despite his silence on the matter, on more of one occasion, he had caught Erik with a distant yet panged expression as he stared out the window. It was evident Erik was pining for the lovely Miss Daee. The matters of the heart were simply too personal to discuss with a stranger. Perhaps in time Erik will voluntarily discuss the matter, however, until then he would remain respectful of his privacy. There were certain ailments for which only time and silence were the remedy. He genuinely hoped the distance would help Erik heal so he may find a new path in life.


	4. Paths

Chapter Four: Paths

Erik walked alone along the beach that was part of the private estate he was now residing in. The last six months had been more or less a much needed respite from the world. Nicholas had not been jesting when he declared the climate was healthy for one's spirits. His sadness was by no means conquered; he'd simply learned to endure it. He gazed out to the sea and appreciated the sight. Winter would be forcing them to return to Saint Petersburg soon. He had nothing against the city, in truth he found he enjoyed the ethereal beauty and peace he was granted in this marvelous land. Nicholas claimed the weather was not as ideal during the winter, and insisted Saint Petersburg during its social season was not something he'd wish to miss. Considering how accurate most his statements had proven to be thus far, he was not inclined to disagree with him.

He began to walk back towards the main house. The property was not as isolated as other properties in the area. It afforded privacy and the conscience of being near the local town. The actual house was not as lavish as others in the area, as it was subtle in its grandeur. It was as Nicholas affectionately referred to as, 'his little cottage'. It was built for comfort not luxury, according to Nicholas; it was meant a retreat from the opulence of Saint Petersburg. It was tastefully decorated with each room having views of the gardens and sea. His own room overlooked the small fountain which constantly lured him to sleep at night. This privileged yet oddly domestic lifestyle had lured him into a sense of serenity he couldn't recall ever experiencing.

Also to his surprise, he had found a friend in Nicholas. He had never established a friendship with anyone aside from Antoinette. Therefore he had been rather taken aback by how easily it had been to form camaraderie with Nicholas. He would like to think he could attribute this to his own starved craving for companionship, but in truth Nicholas was a man one could easy hold to esteem. His only grievance was Nicholas tended to treat him as a child rather than an equal. In truth, he did not truly mind. Having no male influence in his life, he found he rather relished the fatherly advice Nicholas often bestowed upon him.

He'd learned a few tidbits of information from the help. Nicholas had been a widower for some time. His wife, according to everyone had been very delicate, and her struggles to birth healthy children may have accelerated her decline in health. Four children were born and only one survived to adulthood. It seemed unfair for someone like Nicholas to have suffered the pain of losing children. His suffering was different from his own, yet he genuinely lamented his losses.

A passing villager gave him a friendly wave of a hand as they crossed paths. The evolution of his relationship with the locals was something Nicholas never tired of teasing him about. When he had first arrived, there were few villagers who had accused of being a messenger of the Devil. He quickly silenced them with the threat of bringing the Devil's wrath upon them. Most had gasped and ran, some cried, all the while Nicholas simply laughed before giving him a stern lecture. Nicholas eventually smoothed things over and soon enough everyone's attitude towards him had shifted to a decidedly friendlier one.

He was finally finding some sort of peace in this estate that offered both the luxury and seclusion he craved, and the acceptance he needed by those around him. Everyone who worked there always greeted him with a smile and treated him with the utmost respect. Having gone through life without this sort of attention, he found he was oddly fond of it. From time to time he would even be as bold as to engage in minor flirtations with the maids who seemed to adore him despite his mask. He did not take their attentions seriously, although he enjoyed them all the same. It wasn't difficult to summarize why he genuinely felt as though he had finally found his place in the world.

**************************************************************************************************************************

Nicholas frowned as he looked over the documents on his desk. It did not seem possible for his daughter to utilizing her yearly allowance at such an accelerated pace. She was never once for extravagance, leaving him to believe it was not she utilizing the funds. He was not ignorant of his son-in-law's expensive taste; however, it would appear he underestimated it. The man had no qualms about soliciting for additional funds. It was incredibly presumptuous of him, yet he was not surprised at all. It was not the first time he had received a request asking for additional funds. He could easily instruct his banker to wire the funds yet his dilemma was not the lack of funds but rather the lack of trust. He was not inclined to support a boisterous lifestyle for anyone, even if they were technically his family.

He reached for the silver letter opener as he picked up the next letter requiring his attention. He smiled as he realized it was from Antoinette. She was still keeping him at arm's length, yet their increased correspondence was progress.

Nicholas,

I'm pleased to hear of Erik's overall progress. I never believed there would be a time when he would willingly walk about in the open without his cloak. It may seem inconsequential to some, but for Erik's this is immense growth in his confidence. He has a talent for masking his sentiments very well, perhaps not so much his anger as you may now know, yet overall he has always been keen to disguise his weaknesses. I do not expect him to evolve over night, but this gradual progress reinforces my belief of his ability to adapt to the traditional life he has long been denied.

Your last letter was very touching in your reflections. Do not reproach yourself for what you believe to be failings as a parent. We do what we believe is best for our children's sake. I do not believe you capable of being a negligent parent, perhaps you committed some errors. However, one cannot reproach you. A man raising a daughter alone without assistance is difficult. You acted according to your conscious. It was always my belief your daughter was too young to be married, however, it is not uncommon especially in high society to see girls married off rather quickly. I cannot confirm the various speculations as to her marriage, but yes I've heard certain alarming rumors. They are only rumors; therefore one should always be cautious with the information as a result. It has been some time since I've seen her. She is a lovely and especially friendly, although her demeanor does alter into a very reserved manner when her husband is present. This is the only first hand information I can provide you.

As to your wishes and desires for an alternative outcome to the paths our lives have taken. Why lament was wasn't? Is it not better to accept things for what they are and be thankful we are able to maintain a friendship? We are no longer in our youth but parents of adult girls who in theory could yield us grandchildren soon. Let the issue rest for no good will come of it. It is what it is. I am content as you should be too. Our paths crossed perhaps that is all they were ever meant to do, simply cross.

Take care Nicholas, and please be sure to give my best to Erik.

Antoinette Giry 

He was not displeased with her note. She had at least acknowledged his sentiments rather than politely glossing over the topic as was her habit. Her reluctance was evident and justified. He was not satisfied with being simply content, he longed for more. He was determined to breech the barrier around her heart, and he was certain his perseverance would eventually yield fruit.

**************************************************************************************************************************

 

_Antoinette Giry sat at her desk sorting through years of letters. She could not recall the last time she had sorted through her personal correspondence. Her leisure time had been rarely available, and suddenly she found herself inundated by it. Meg had gone out with Christine and Raoul once more. It seemed her daughter was spending exceptionally large amounts of time with the de Chagny's as of late. She was certain the Viscount was merely indulging his young wife. Despite his friendly demeanor, she understood all too well the strict decorum aristocracy had to abide by. Her hand reached for a bundled stack of letters. She slowly untied the black ribbon that held them in place before carefully going over them. Photographs fall from one of the letters._

"Nicky…" she murmurs softly as her finger tips run gently over his youthful features. She had hundreds of his letters. All of them where filled with love, regrets, uncertainties, and hope. His letters always made her blush with his shockingly honest desire to be with her. He made her ache with a simple thought. She had been young and naïve once, not anymore. Her emotions remained rigidly in check for a reason. The past was filled with beautiful memories but also painful truths. They have moved on from their previous attachment. To dwell on it only served to stir emotions best left interred.

She picked up another photograph of a small girl standing besides Nicholas who was seated. Her head was reclining against his shoulder, as he gazed down at her affectionately.

"She certainly resembles her father," she whispered as she gathered all the letters.

Without warning she heard a frantic pounding at her door. Startling her from her thoughts, she quickly placed all of the letters back into their box. She rushed to the door and opened it, tremendously staggered to see a tall cloaked figure standing in the hall. The cloak concealed the face and much of her figure; however the head raised the shadow lifted from the pale face.

"What are you doing here?" Antoinette asked in bewilderment.

"Please, help me," a trembling voice replied as a pair of blood soaked hands lifted from under the cloak.


	5. Fumbled Introductions

Chapter 5: Fumbled Introductions

Erik sat silently reading in the privacy of his bedroom. Despite his attempt to focus on the book on hand, his thoughts were continuously lured to the letters that sat on his desk. Nicholas had forwarded letters from the prestigious Boshoi Theatre, who had been intrigued by the latest sample he had supplied them. For once in his life, his music was being accepted and he was being honored for it. He had never experienced open praise before. He had always worked vigorously on his music but had used force to have it performed. For once opera houses, musicians, and theaters were soliciting for his music. The fact provided a sense of gratification his work had previously not produced. Yet another debt he owed to Nicholas for graciously using his influence to open doors that may not have been so easily accessible otherwise.

His music had always been an emotional outlet. One he had briefly turned away from during his dispirited transition, however, as always he returned to his beloved music. However, even his music could not occupy his thoughts at all times.

Late in the evenings when he no other distractions, his treacherous heart would make itself known. He tried not to think of Christine, yet one's fickle mind could not always be restrained. He thought of her every night. During the day he venomously attempted to keep himself busy, even attempting to learn the Russian language in a vain attempt to avoid thoughts of her.

The truth was he felt hollow without her. The dull ache in the pit of his stomach never truly stopped. She was a wound that simply could not heal because in truth, it had never stopped bleeding.

On more than once occasion the idea of returning to Paris had crossed his mind, only to realize it was hopeless. Their lives had gone different paths. Paths he was certain would never cross again. Christine was married and he was establishing a solid foundation for a new life away from his tumultuous past. The Crimea and its surroundings offered him both privacy and solitude when he desired it, as well as companionship and, to some level, acceptance by those around him. He never would have been granted the latter in his previous life.

He was not feared by anyone in the estate or the neighboring estates. The local nobleman had welcomed him to their social circle and had been refreshingly forward with him. They confessed, to his face, they had indeed been taken aback by his mask and his mysterious persona, but understood that he was a product of his predicament. Nicholas had taken upon himself to fabricate a tale of a horrific accident which had permanently damaged his face. People, it seemed, could easily be swayed to acceptance if they believed you to be an innocent victim. He couldn't remember when he had ever been an innocent victim. When he attempted to correct Nicholas on his deception, he had waved him off claiming it was best to provide a story than allow them to fabricate their own. It was one of the rare times Nicholas had broached the subject of his face. Erik had come to hold a profound sense of respect and loyalty for the man who continued to treat him with a level of esteem he had always been denied. In fact, most of the neighbors appeared to have followed Nicholas's lead and treated him as one of their own.

One neighbor in particular, the Orlov's; were very warm and friendly toward him. Often insisting he join them for tea or lunch. It had been a daunting experience when he joined them for lunch on what turned out to be his first social call. Nervous and stiff, the couple had quickly put him at ease with their casual demeanor. He doubted they understood how much their noble gesture had touched him, or how significant it had been.

Noise from the bedroom next to his distracted his thoughts. There should be no one in that bedroom, his brows came together in a frown. He put the book aside without hesitating approached the adjoining door. He had been told the adjoining room had previously belonged to be Nicholas's daughter's room, while his present room had been assigned to her nursemaid. He had never heard of any nursemaid living in such privileged conditions, but his lack of expertise in such matters hardly made him an expert. The room was normally closed off and only opened when it required dusting. Even if it was being cleaned, the majority of the servants had retreated for the evening.

There had been tales of scoundrels in the area. Had someone dared to trespass on the estate? His chest inflated with indignation. Whoever was in the room, he would be sure to make them pay for daring to steal from such a generous man. Snarling he proceeded to open the door slowly.

There was no light in the room; the darkness aiding his quiet approach. His eyes, which had long adjusted to the dark, quickly detected a lean form near the nightstand. Like a predator he approached the thief with utter care, careful not to evoke any sound. He observed as the person reach into their pockets, oblivious to his presence. He moved swiftly locking his arms around the figure who gave a shocked cry before immediately beginning to resist his hold. Although the boy of was of decent height, he lacked the significant strength to combat him. He forced the boy against the wall pulling his arms behind his back.

"I'm afraid you have made a grave mistake boy," Erik hissed.

"No, it is you who has made the mistake," a soft but sharp voice responded. Erik inhaled sharply as the voice shattered his captives veneer.

"You're a woman?" Unsettled by his bewilderment he failed to notice the woman in his hold shift her leg slightly before she gave a swift kick backwards that effectively loosened his hold as he collapsed onto his knees. Debilitated by the trauma inflicted to his person, he gasped as the pain traveled to his abdominal cavity. He swore in three different languages before his mask was dislodged by a blow to the face. One hand instantly reached up to cover his marred face while desperately attempting to ignore the stabbing pain in his stomach. Erik attempted to search for his mask, but his attacker effectively froze his movements when she held a knife against his neck.

"Do not move," she cautioned.

Before he could formulate a response, light abruptly appeared at the door. He turned to see Madame Giry in the doorway with Nicholas besides her holding an oil lamp, as Meg attempted to peek over their shoulders. .

"Tatiana! Release him!" Madame Giry cried as she rushed towards them. Instantaneously he felt the sharp object removed from his neck, as simultaneously the room was lightened. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed little Meg Giry lighting the various lamps in the room.

"My mask!" he demanded mortified at his current state. Madame Giry reached to where his mask had fallen and handed it to him. He quickly adjusted the mask back into place, declining her assistance as she attempted to aid him. Once his mask was securely in its place he got to his feet and turned to see his attacker. Despite wearing men's clothing, it was now apparent his formidable opponent was indeed female. Although she was taller than most women, her figure from what he could ascertain was too lithe to be man's. Her face remained shielded from his inspection as she embraced Nicholas.

Perplexed by the sight before him, he noticed of Nicholas's elated expression. Madame Giry had called the girl 'Tatiana', gradual understanding overcame him. Nicholas's only child.

He remained incensed over his injured pride. He'd had altercations with men of various sizes and backgrounds, yet none had bested him as she had. Unable to shake his acrimonious sentiments, he turned to leave the room, without acknowledging Madame Giry or Meg who stood at his side. There would be time for answers later, at the moment he required privacy to deal with his wounded pride and person.

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Madame Giry stood over her bed unpacking their belongings while Meg quietly admired the room her mother had been provided. She frowned at her daughter's awed expression. Despite the late hour, she remained very alert and animated. She wished she shared some of her youthful energy. She'd been quite content to retire for the evening after bidding Nicholas and Tatiana a good evening. No doubt father and daughter would have much to discuss, and her presence would only hinder their vital private reunion.

"Mama, have you ever seen such a place?" Meg asked as she ran her hands over the curtains silk material. It was not difficult to notice Meg had been completely enthralled by the richness of their surroundings.

"Yes," she responded sharply. She was not in a particularly talkative mood. Between their long journey, and the unexpected quarrel between Erik and Tatiana, she was utterly exhausted. They had traveled aggressively over the last two weeks. Having to travel through a foreign land was nerve wrecking enough with the added fear of being discovered, it had all but leveled her poor nerves. Too much had occurred at once, not enough was explained, but for now it was enough they had reached their destination. She was eager to rest, the train and carriage rides providing little comfort and restful sleep. Hopefully in the morning, everything would be settled enough to discuss whatever lingering misunderstandings there may be.

Meg's alarmed gasped jolted her from her thoughts as she turned as one of the walls opened and Erik emerged from the hidden door. He walked past Meg as he approached her. His expression underlined his irritable state, yet she did not cower. Her eyes remained fixed on his as he stood before her.

"What are you doing here?" Despite his calm demeanor she did not miss the dangerous edge to his voice.

"It is nice to see you too Erik." she said as she continued to unpack her things. She was not in any mood to deal with his temperament.

"Answer me!" he demanded.

"I had hoped you had learned to have better control over your temper," she chided, "Despite your lack of manners, I do believe you are looking healthier."

"I doubt you came all this way to reprimand me for my lack of manners," his eyes bore into hers, "why are you here?"

"Monsieur please calm down!" Meg pleaded as she attempted to approach him only to shrink back with one angry glare.

"Step away from me child!" Erik heaved, "This is between your mother and I."

"That is enough!" She shifted her gaze to her daughter. "Meg go to your bedroom, I shall see you in the morning."

Meg thankfully did not question her mother as she mumbled good evening before hastily retreating.

"I'm waiting."

"I have traveled much and unlike you it was not in complete comfort and luxury," she explained as she took a seat in a nearby chair before casually gesturing him to take a seat beside her. Erik nodded as he elegantly sat down. She noted his skin was livelier. He'd always had a taste for masking his appearance, however at the moment his skin was emanating a natural glow rather than a cosmetic one.

"As you may know the girl who you encountered was Tatiana Alexandrovna, Nicholas's daughter and heir."

"I presumed as much."

"Two weeks ago she came to me in desperate need of my help. I could not deny her and decided to bring her home to her father."

"Why did you not send word?"

"There was no time. It also would not have been prudent considering the circumstances of her, uh, departure." It was not for her to reveal Tatiana's secrets; however, she knew Erik would not be satisfied with ambiguous explanations. "Erik she cannot return to Paris. I know she hurt you but it was not on purpose-"

"Not on purpose? That girl did what no other man could!" He hissed angrily.

She couldn't hold back the giggle that escaped her lips.

"You dare mock me?"Erik looked at her with fury in his eyes.

"Erik, perhaps when you have calmed down will also find this amusing. It is not every day; a woman holds a knife against the infamous Phantom of the Opera."

"She will pay." He vowed.

"You would harm the daughter of the man who saved you?"

Silence. A small smile graced her lips. She knew Erik was loyal, volatile but loyal. He would not harm Tatiana, although it was doubtful he would be inclined to extend her same trust as her father.

"Why has she fled her home?"

"It is not for me to disclose Erik."

"How long will you be here?"

"I plan on returning to Paris in two days."

"Are you sure?"

"I only came to escort her here, Erik. I have no other reason to be here."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked with a slight smirk. She did not miss the innuendo and quickly blushed, putting her hand on her rosy cheeks.

"Of course!" she stammered out.

Erik laughed at her obvious discomfort. She could not recall him ever having caused her to stammer or blush in such a manner. His laughter only caused her face to redden further. She lowered her gaze unable to meet his amused gaze.

"Forgive me Madame," he said as he took her hand and kissed it. "I owe much to you."

"You owe me nothing Erik."

"You save me as child, and again when you could have so easily have been rid of me. I'm not one to forget kind acts of mercy." She squeezed his hand. "It does me good to see a familiar face here."

"I'm so very happy to see you Erik. I've thought of you constantly."

"I swear to you I will speak to no one about your relationship with Monsieur Alexandrov." His eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Erik what do you know?" she asked eagerly

"I know enough to understand the meaning behind those blushes, Madame," his lip twitched into a smile, "Now if you excuse me, I do believe you are tired and require some rest." He left her speechless as she blushed to the roots of her hair.


	6. Depleted

Chapter Six: Depleted

Nicholas struggled to contain his glee as he sipped his brandy. His daughter, his precious daughter had returned home. He had been surprised to be summoned by his doorman. The poor old man had been far too excited to speak, fumbling with hand gestures to point towards the downstairs. He had quickly put on a robe and descended to investigate the matter. The moment he reached the bottom of the stairs, he'd literally been struck senseless. Standing in the foyer had been his Antoinette alongside her daughter, who was a diminutive copy of her lovely mother.

"Antoinette." he whispered.

"Monsieur," He'd nearly winced at the formality of her tone. "Forgive me for being here at this late hour and unannounced, but I must speak with you urgently."

"Antoinette, why are you here?" He'd taken her slender hands in his before bestowing an ardent kiss upon them. He'd felt her tense under his touch.

Their awkward reunion had underlined how cautious he had to be with Antoinette. She was obviously uncomfortable with his attentions, firmly keeping him at arm's length. He would tread the waters carefully around her, and gradually ease any doubts that may persist in her mind. His daughter and his Antoinette were both under his roof. His emotions were far too elevated for him to rest. He had acceded to Antoinette's desire to retire for the evening. The weariness of her journey reflected on her lovely face. No matter how much he craved to rush to her side, he refused to yield to his instincts. There would be time for them to speak. He knew he had to approach her with rigid restraint; otherwise all his hopes and desires would deteriorate before he had the opportunity to voice them. He closed his eyes as he allowed the brandy to pacify his elated heart.

Despite his joy, he could not ignore the persisting questions that nagged at him. He had not wish to question Tatiana as to her sudden appearance. He was not under any illusions her return home was sanctioned by Vladimir. Her attire had not escaped his attention either. He was concerned as to what had transpired to sway his daughter to travel in such a manner. It wasn't difficult to speculate she had traveled in such a manner as to avoid detection. He refused to speculate further until they discussed her return in the morning. He was certain she would provide an acceptable explanation to his questions and arm him with information to defend her actions if need be. He doubted her return would go unnoticed, especially given her prolonged absence.

Setting his glass aside he began to remove his robe. Despite his fatigue, he knew it sleep would evade him for some time. How could he possibly sleep when the woman he loved was only a few doors down the hall?

"Please wake up, Ana...I know you are tired but it's important." Meg pleaded. Tatiana groaned into her pillow. Just a few more minutes, her fatigued mind argued. She opened an eye to see Meg alert and leaning over her.

"Can't it wait?" she asked pulling the covers over her head.

"Your father wishes you to join us for lunch since you missed breakfast." Meg pulled the covers off.

"Fine," Tatiana huffed as she leaned up on one elbow while she tried to read the time. "What time is it?"

"You have to get up, it nearly eleven." Meg pulled back the curtains allowing the blinding sunlight to penetrate her shadowed room. "We will be having lunch in an hour which would give us enough time to get you ready."

Tatiana watched as Meg rushed toward her luggage and tried to pull something for her to wear. Throughout their journey she had been dressed in men's clothing. Madame Giry insisting the camouflaged appearance would shield her from anyone actively seeking to find her. The gentle older woman had been correct. She had traveled anonymously until their arrival. She frowned as she thought about the unpleasant situation she had encountered. It was a matter she had brushed aside too exhausted to care, however now she found herself intrigued by the stranger who dared to confront her.

"You must have been exhausted," Meg commented as she looked over a shirt and shook her head in disapproval before setting it aside, "I have been up since dawn."

"I was, we don't all have your ebullient attitude." She teased.

Meg Giry had been positively radiant with excitement throughout their journey. Tatiana had noted how similar they were in age, yet different their outlook and personalities. With a twinge of lament she noted there was a time not too long ago when they would not have been so different. Despite their differences she had become rather fond of Meg. Her blond hair was styled in a very simplistic, partially down and partially pulled back by a ribbon. Must girls stopped wearing their down when they reached the age of sixteen, yet Meg continued to do so, apparently ignorant or uncaring of the unwritten decorum.

"I cannot believe this is the same place you called 'Our little house by the sea'!"

"Well to me it was a little house compared to our home is Saint Petersburg," she admitted as she leisurely stretched her limps, "father prefers this property to the rest."

"How many do you have?" Meg asked star-eyed as she laid out a corset and undergarments.

"My father owns ten properties in Russia and a few scattered in Europe."

"How can you own so much?" Meg asked bewildered.

"Generations of accumulation and a thinning family line." She remarked with a touch of melancholy.

"But you are going to inherit it all." Meg said in awe. "I never dreamed a person could own so much."

"Yes but at what price?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, ignore me," Tatiana shrugged as she looked at her scarce wardrobe. "I may have to borrow a dress."

"You are welcome to my clothing, but they may not be long enough to be deemed appropriate."

Tatiana knew it was true as she was several inches taller than her petite companion. It was not the first time her unconventional height had proved cumbersome.

"You are right." she went to the corner of her room and pulled on a cream cord that hanged from the wall.

"What are you doing?"

"Summoning a servant," she frowned as she looked around the room, "they'll be able to find me something suitable."

She walked into her dressing room and despite its immaculate state it lacked many of her personal belongings. Another subtle reminder of how life at home had continued on without her.

"You are home," Meg said shyly as she entered the dressing room, "but you do not seem content."

"It's difficult to explain but do not doubt I am relieved to be home," she turned to look at Meg, "yet despite my rejoice, there are some lingering sentiments which I find difficult to evade."

"You should not be afraid," Meg placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, "you cannot be harmed here. I'm sure your father will be able to help you resolve all your problems."

"I wish I could share your optimism," Tatiana gave Meg a weary smile, "I'm afraid I've grown frightfully skeptical."

"I know I'm ignorant in many aspects. I have never been married and have hardly suffered as you have, but I believe a little hope can go a long way." Meg offered sheepishly. "You are unlike any other woman I've ever met. You are brave in ways I could never be."

"I'm not brave," Tatiana laughed lightly, "stubborn and irrational at times, but never brave."

"But Ana, you faced him!" Tatiana titled her head in slight confusion. "How did you manage to take him down last night?" she asked shyly.

"Oh him," Realization flashed across her features as she shrugged her shoulders. "I kicked him between the knees."

"You what? Were you not afraid him?"

"He's just another man."

"Ana, he isn't just another man, he's-" a knock interrupted.

"Come it." Tatiana called out as she and Meg walked back into the bedroom.

"You called Madame?" a pretty little maid asked as she eagerly approached.

"Yes. I'm afraid I need clothing."

"The Prince had your clothing stored, we can have them ready for you within a few hours.

"Very well," Tatiana smiled at the young girl. "Please have my personal belongings returned to my room at once." The maid nodded in affirmation before politely excusing herself.

"At least you will be able to dress in your old clothing." Meg smiled.

"Meg," Tatiana frowned slightly as she looked around the room, "Where is your mother?"

"She is in the garden speaking with your father."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"This should be interesting." She mumbled as an elegant eyebrow slightly rose.

"Why?"

"Meg do not tell me you never heard of our parents previous liaison?" she asked in a cautious tone.

"Liaison?"

"Little Meg Giry, you really do need to pay more attention to your surrounding sometimes." Tatiana teased lightly.

Meg said nothing as she walked towards the large window overlooking the garden. Noting her silence, Tatiana could not help but wonder if Meg was prepared to accept her mother may have a personal life outside of being a mother.

Meg lingered only long enough to assist her in dressing. The maids had been effective in preparing her casual yet comfortable attire for the day. She recognized the beige dress with red trimmings. As Meg helped her dress, she realized no major alterations would be required. The dress had been bought for her before her marriage; her figure had not been altered in that time. Her changes were not physical, she thought with some grimace as Meg assisted her with her hair. She had never cared for the richly complicated hairstyles favored by most women. She elected to style her hair candidly in a bun with a braid wrapped around it. She had no need to be pretentious, nor did she care to be. For the first time in years, she was free to decide on her personal appearance. She smiled as she stared at her reflection. She was no longer a Countess or Princess, but just a woman. A woman with the freedom to choose, she sighed contently.

"I'm going to go freshen up," Meg smiled over her shoulder, "I'll see you downstairs."

"I'll be down shortly." Tatiana watched as Meg left her alone for the first time since she had awakened. There were many thoughts racing through her troubled mind. Explanations were due, yet she dreaded the pending conversation with her father. There were many things she knew she would need to discuss. Troubling confessions which would bring scandal and shame should they ever be revealed. She could not feign to be unaffected by them. Her secrets had been her own for so long, her torment her own; the concept of discussing them in the open deeply shamed her. She had only shared tidbits of information with Madame Giry, and even then, it had been ambiguous and brief. She inhaled deeply as she reached for a perfume bottle. She added some perfume to her neck and wrist, elated to find her old favored fragrance amongst the personal items returned to her dressing table. Content with her appearance she gave herself an affirmative nod as she resolved to speak with her father candidly. The truth however painful was always best.

She walked out of her room determined to find her father, even if it meant tearing him from Madame Giry's side. Just as she was about to pass the first door a gloved hand reached out and pulled her into the room. A small indignant cry escaped her as the closed behind her. She turned to see a man staring at her fiercely with the keenest green eyes she had ever seen. So captivated was she, it was several moments before she realized there was a white porcelain mask concealing half of his face.

*********************************************************************************************

Madame Giry walked in silence with Nicholas as she admired his beautiful garden. From the exotic plants and flowers, to the classical status scattered throughout, it was utterly charming. She had been too exhausted the previous night to admire the home Nicholas had often vibrantly described in his letters. It was surreal to be walking along his side. Despite their mutual silence, she could not ignore her fretful nervous which undermined her cool demeanor. The stopped before a fountain of a cherub pointing to the sky as he rode a swan. It reminded of her a similar status she had once seen in a museum in Paris.

"I hope you are comfortable Antoinette." Nicholas whispered as he took her hand in his. It was impossible to ignore the sensual undertone to his voice, or the subtle manner in which his fingers moved over hers. She felt herself turning redder than a tomato as his lips lifted into an amused smirk.

"Why do silent? Am I disturbing you?" he asked innocently as he lightly brushed his lips over her knuckles.

"No, Nicky it's just...it does not seem possible to be truly here." She was behaving a like a school girl! She silently reproached herself for her fumbling words. How could one man breach her prudent resolve? Not any man, just this one…a voice within whispered.

"I have missed you Antoinette." he breathed against her skin as he kissed the back of her palm, "more than you can ever possibly know."

Their eyes locked in a heated gaze neither attempted to break. She could have sworn she saw a flood of wanton emotions that mirrored her own. Her hand came up to cup his cheek slightly. He closed his eyes in apparent bliss before tilting his head slightly to press his lips against her palm. His eyes opened, to look at her with a silent plea. Unable to resist the lure, she slowly nodded her head in silent affirmation. She closed her eyes as his lips descended upon hers. A feeble gasp escaped her lips as their lips at last made contact. Years of repressed longing engulfed them both as they kissed without restraint. Their lips met again and again, in a wild passionate dance neither had forgotten. Her arms went around his neck as his arms went around her small waist bringing her slim form closer to him.

The intensity of their embrace was purely primitive as both caressed one another in a manner that would be considered obscene by the standards of their time, but she did not care. Her hands traveled down his shoulders over his arms, delighting in the sensations she had long abstained from. As their kiss deepened it evoked a strenuous groan from Nicholas. Suddenly all laws of prudency returned to her hazed mind as she abruptly broke their kiss. She turned away from Nicholas, hiding her mortified expression.

"Antoinette, forgive me." Nicholas pleaded, "I got carried away." he turned her around so she could look him in the eyes. "I have loved and wanted you for years." She blushed even redder at his earnest words.

"Nicky, you shouldn't say such things. It is not proper." She hissed. He laughed gently as he leaned in, nuzzling his nose in her neck.

"Antoinette, Antoinette what am I to do with you and your modesty?" he kissed her forehead.

"Monsieur are...oh, my... impossible." Her mind was clouded with a long neglected passion which impaired her ability to speak.

"For being honest? Don't you think we deserve to have some happiness in this life?" he whispered into her ear causing her toes to curl.

She didn't answer she was afraid of where their conversation was going.

"Nicky, this is not the time to speak of such things." She gently pushed him away. His lust filled eyes morphed into genuine hurt.

She turned to leave but was stopped at the sound of his deflated voice.

"Antoinette what are you afraid of?" She lowered her head and bit her lip before turning around to face him.

"Of us Nicky," She looked at him with deep but hesitant longing before walking back towards the house.


	7. Chagrin

Chapter Seven: Chagrin

Unaccustomed to waiting on others, his patience had all but dissolved when at last she had emerged from her bedroom. His own bedroom door had remained slightly ajar allowing him a brief glimpse to confirm it was indeed the vixen from the previous night before making his move. Even as he pulled her into his bedroom, he noted the tall lean figure from the previous night had transformed quite handsomely. Her features were classically refined, a sleek chin and jaw, a long yet proportionate nose, her dark hair and cornflower eyes complimented her olive complexion divinely. At first she said nothing, apparently studying him with the same curiosity he was providing her, but it didn't take long before she placed her hands on her hips and raised her chin in an unspoken challenge.

"You have much to explain Madame Feodrova," he stoically commented as he observed her unique height. He's never seen a woman quite as tall, yet she appeared so beautifully proportioned it hardly hindered from her beauty, in fact, it amplified it.

"It is you who has some explaining to do!" she snapped, "and if you are to use that forsaken name at least do so correctly, it's Countess Feodrova." Although his face remained impassive, inside he was amused. Did she not know who she was dealing with? No man or woman had ever dared talk to him with bravado. It was a genuinely a new experience. Her apparent loathing for her title and martial name did not escape his notice.

"You are mistaken Madame. Unlike you I have nothing to explain, while you have much to clarify and even an apology to extend.""I do not know who you are but neither do I care! I owe you nothing." Her hand reached for the door handle only for it to be slapped away.

Her eyes widen in indignation. Her mouth parted slightly yet no sound emerged. An amused smirk graced his lips as he noted the pink hue of her skin.

"I do not believe I have ever met a more ill mannered individual in my life," he commented with a hint of feigned boredom, "You inflict harm on my person, in a very sensitive area I may add, then attempt to cut my throat and refuse to apologize." He noted the blue in her eyes had all but disappeared. "Your demeanor mirrors your arrival. I cannot help but presume your husband must be searching for you as we speak."

"How dare you!"

"Oh, I dare."

"This is my home!" She fumed "I don't know who you are or why my father has allowed you into our home, but know I can have you thrown out for your contemptuous words."

"I would like to see you try, Madame."

"You Monsieur are picking a fight with the wrong person. I do take this kind of treatment from anyone! And in all cases it is you who owes me an apology."

"I owe you an apology?" An amused smiled breached his stoic façade.

"You attacked me first!" She accused.

"No one was supposed to be in that room." he reasoned as he leaned closer to her, towering slightly over her as their eyes remained locked. "You were dressed as a boy and more importantly you never identified yourself."

"Why would I need to identify myself in my own home?" She countered without shying away from him. "Everyone in this household knows who I am."

"Your lack of accountability is bewildering. One would have expected more of the daughter of Prince Nicholas Alexandrov."

"Monsieur, I do not know why you are in my home or why you are wearing that ridiculous mask when there is no masquerade ball anywhere in sight! But I will tell you this, you won't be here much longer, you arrogant little salaud!"

Stunned by her verbal assault he remained frozen in place utterly dumbfounded. No one had ever called him an arrogant bastard. The sting of suffering yet another humiliation at the hands of this woman slowly took hold of him as his astonishment gave way to fury. Yet just as quickly as it arrived it faded as astonishment seized him. He'd been so engrossed with his wounded pride; he failed to notice she had retreated from his room.

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Tatiana stormed out the room furious. Besides Vladimir, no one had ever dared speak with her with such obvious disrespect. His callousness had stirred her anger, so much so she had wanted to slap that smirk off his face. Who did he think he was? She swore to herself no man would ever belittle her ever again. Whatever inclination she may have had of apologizing for their previous misunderstanding had quickly waned upon their unorthodox introduction, in which formalities were tossed to the wind. As she approached her father's personal rooms, she realized the man had never properly identified himself. She did not know his name or reason for currently residing in their home. Her ire was further fueled by the knowledge the stranger had obviously known who she was, evidently far more conversant than she.

She headed towards her father's bedroom still cursing the masked man who had made her feel like a fool. He had been right, she never identified herself, but what it matter? His unprovoked attacked had triggered her into action, she merely defended herself. She would have acted no differently if presented with the opportunity again. Bitterness engulfed her heart as she thought of previous physical altercations which had left permanent scars. "Never again," she whispered with absolute resolution.

Arriving upon her father's room she inhaled deeply before knocking. There was no answer. Could he still be with Madame Giry?

"I suspect you are ready for our conversation."

She turned to see her father's affectionate gaze. As far as she could remember he had always played a central part of her life. Their fealty and affection mutual, for some times, she had genuinely believed it would always be just the two of them. There seemed to be no need for another to intrude in their small family. Maturity had lifted the veil on many of her childish ideals. Whereas she had believed him to be distinctly devoted to her, she had realized there was another woman who occupied a very guarded part of his heart. Initial resentment and petty jealously had dissolved and replaced with acceptance and understanding. It was difficult to fault someone for forming sentimental attachments before her birth, especially when she knew firsthand how constrained her parents' marriage had been. Her father had been discreet about his personal life, taking extraordinary care to shield her from malicious gossip. Her father had attempted to shelter her from unpleasantness all her life, the irony was not lost on her. She kissed his check as he embraced her.

How long had she dreamed of being back with her father? How many nights had she wished to return home? Even as she inhaled his scent, she doubted it was truly a reality. He motioned for her to enter his room; she opened the door to reveal his sitting room. His bedroom was attached through the hidden door near the fireplace. The layout had designed by her grandfather who had insisted the main personal chambers should remain private. The study was designed to host anyone seeking to disturb the patriarch of the family as he rested in his personal champers. The eccentricities of nobility were uniquely their own, she mused.

Nothing had changed, she noted as she glanced around the room. The sitting room was decorated in velvet and gold. The walls appeared to have been made out of gold, as did the furniture. The gilded wood carvings covered the furniture, walls, and doors. The fabric on the curtains, chairs, and sofa were the same cloth her grandmother had selected upon the creation of the room. The artwork decorating the walls were not masterful pieces of art, but rather paintings crafted by her grandparents. Everywhere she looked her family's legacy was engraved. A legacy that was resting on her shoulders to continue.

She sat beside her father as she struggled to find her words. Her gaze fell upon her hands as she struggled to find her voice.

"I'm under no illusions regarding your impromptu visit," her father began, "As your husband has declined all invitations to visit, I can only ascertain the boldness of your actions were not without reason."

"There is much you do not know," she began as she continued to avert his gaze, "it's difficult to voice what has not been voiced before."

"Tatiana, please tell me the truth." Her father urged. "You have my support regardless, but I must know the truth. I will not reproach you anything without understanding the circumstances which have brought you here before me."

"I do not wish to return to him father," she confessed, "I refuse to return to him."

"Did he harm you?"

"Yes." She admitted as she faced her father. "Far more than anyone will ever understand."

"What did he do?"

"Papa, I was only a prize to him. He didn't love me, he couldn't love me." She licked her lips slightly as she struggled to find the adequate words. "He assured me, he would be loyal even if he could not remain faithful."

"He had a mistress?" Her father pressed lightly.

"He was very candid about his paramours, perhaps more than the necessary, but he was honest. I was young and naïve, I didn't understand, I was shocked by his bluntness."

"As any decent girl would have been," Nicholas squeezed her hand, "You were ill prepared for such indecent conversations." She lowered her head. "Do not be ashamed, for you have done nothing to be ashamed about."

"There is much I am profoundly ashamed of," she confessed with a trembling lip, "to even speak of it is humiliating."

"Tatiana what is wrong?"

"I was ignorant and afraid; I didn't know about intimacies," her eyes began to burn, "I failed to discriminate between right and wrong. Having no understanding of such things I relied on his guidance and knowledge, except I failed to realize his taste in such matters was deemed unhealthy by many. Gradually I came to understand his inclinations were perverse, and when I refused to comply, he would punish me." She inhaled deeply. "My will folded unable to withstand his aggressions. I learned to yield to his wishes, forsaking my moral compass and retreating inwardly to cope with the shame and disgust his commands caused."

"What did he make you do?" She shook her head. "I must know it all, however disturbing it may be, I must know."

"I always did as he asked." She closed her eyes. "I always did as he asked, except -" she couldn't finish, she didn't want to. "Father, I have done something horrible."

"What have you done child?"


	8. Collapse

Chapter Eight: Collapse

"I was ill prepared for marriage, my youth and immaturity hindering my ability to cope with the demands inflicted upon me by my husband. At least, this was how I attempted to justify his erratic behavior during the first months of our marriage.

There were subtle warnings I ignorantly dismissed. Vladimir loves beauty, but more importantly he loves to be envied. He surrounds himself with rarities and relishes in the praise. I was ignorant but not an idiot. I realized fairly early on I was merely another possession in his collection, one he constantly had on display. Despite his connections and title, he wished to secure a position within the aristocracy of Europe. He wanted me to be his key into a circle of socialites who would not have him because of his blemished pedigree due to his mother. Any reservations aristocracy had about him quickly dissolved when he introduced me into their circle. Despite being overwhelmed, I miraculously managed to maintain a confident façade.

I suppose a part of me was genuinely attempting to fulfill my role and please my husband, while the other was merely frightened of failing him. Regardless, the first year of our marriage was one of many lessons and resentment. Vladimir is and will always be a complex man for all who know him. I do not believe there is another person on this earth who could understand or justify his behavior. I tried and failed, and yet I can't help but feel I perhaps did not attempt hard enough to understand him.

From the beginning of our marriage, Vladimir began instructing me on how I was to behave and dress. He deemed my taste dull and childish. I believed him when he said, he knew what fashions would suit me best. He was correct; for his taste in clothing was immaculate. I did not resent his choice in clothing but rather his insistence in dictating what I was to wear during specific social functions. I was naïve but not an idiot; I came to understand fairly on, as much as he was disliked, no one could dare refuse an Alexandrov. Even outside of Russia, our name carries a great amount of clout. My name and face were all he needed, and as such he did all in his power to ensure they remained unblemished.

My correspondence was monitored acutely. I could only reply to letters under his guidance and inspection. Much like my ventures outside of the home, I was to be always escorted by his men. People jested over his protectiveness, and he'd casually laugh and reply he was merely protecting his prized possession. His words were closer to the truth than anyone realized.

I've know much about my husband he does not wish me to reveal. Vladimir loves to flash his wealth, indulging in lavish expenses he cannot financial sustain without the aid of my dowry and annual allowance. His financial woes have been thus far a very guarded secret, however, for how much longer, I cannot possibly guess. Yet it is more than his financial difficulties he is afraid of having known. He wishes to have to his image of a respectable and gallant Count intact, he does not wish personal and disturbing facts to be known about him.

Vladimir had affairs before our marriage. He informed me of this during our honeymoon when he failed to consummate the marriage. He berated me for my ignorance and inability to stir the proper emotions in him. He informed me he would continue on with his paramour, promising he'd be discreet if I would turn a blind eye. I accepted, not realizing exactly what agreement I had entered to. Soon I realized he had no interest in me as a woman. Vladimir preferred men to woman or truth be told boys to men.

I had never before heard of such a thing, but he made it seem it was natural and common. I did not protest initially. My protests only began when his behavior became perverse, usually fueled by his excessive drinking. He would bring his lovers to our home, flaunt them in my face, and mock me about not knowing how to please a man. I was shamed but nothing compared to the humiliation he forced me to endure when he ordered me to observe them together. His lover's eyes remained fixated on me throughout the entire act. I will never forget how physically ill I felt afterwards. After this I refused to participate his perverse games. My refusals lead to our first true altercation in which I suffered physical impairment. It would be my first taste of his physical maltreatment but not the last.

Unable to resist his physical cruelty, I yielded to his wishes despite my moral objections. I was terrified of his aggressions and I feared the shame that would befall upon us should the truth ever be revealed.

Although he had no interest in me as a woman, he was terribly obsessive. He believed I would become unfaithful and seek comfort elsewhere. His accusations were unfounded but it did not matter. He could be generous and kind, but he was also cruel. He appeared almost tormented at times, but is thoughts and emotions he kept to himself. I did what as I was commanded and as weeks turned into months, I accepted this was the life I was to live. God had chosen to ignore my prayers and in return I forsake God. I stopped believing in him. I lost faith, and in some ways, I slowly began to lose much of myself as I withdrew deep within my person to cope my emotional turmoil.

Our agreement was in place, in turn for being a submissive and obedient wife, he remained loyal. That is to say, he never allowed anyone to disrespect me, not even his beloved. I relished in this minor triumph for it established some respect, which was more than he was willing to provide to his lover. We had no great affection for one another, perhaps in some ways we resented one another. Regardless, we carefully restrained from engaging one another, unless absolutely necessary.

In many ways I had resolved myself to this life. On the night I came to Madame Giry, something happened which forced my hand to take action.

Vladimir always had certain guests he enjoyed to socialize with more than others. One such guest was Duke Ernest whose unwanted attentions were always rebuffed yet he continued his unscrupulous pursuit. I did not understand why Vladimir allowed him into our home, he never looked pleased when the Duke would compliment me, but he also never reproached him for the unwanted attentions he bestowed me. Two weeks ago as I sitting in my lounge chair reading, Vladimir came into my room. He looked disturbed; I had never seen him look so amiss. He wasn't alone. Behind him was the Duke who gave me a smile, I found positively nerve wrecking.

My nervous state only intensified when both men entered my room. Vladimir approached me slowly kneeling before me.

"My dear little wife," he said in Russian, "I cannot have you making a scene, do you understand." I numbly nodded my head. "The Duke is to spend the night with you." I could not believe what he had said. Words died my throat as I struggled to make sense of what was happening.

"You cannot be serious," I whispered in Russian.

"Do not make a scene and do as he asks." He pulled me to my feet and looked me straight in the eyes before leaning in to place a kiss on my forehead. "I will compensate you for this."

"Vladimir," I pleaded grabbing his forearm in desperation, "You cannot be serious."

"Do as he says," he repeated impassively, "it's not a choice."He pulled my hand off him before turning to the Duke. "She understands."He began to walk toward my bedroom door; I hurried behind him grasping at his arm.

"You can't do this Vladimir! Please! I'm your wife!" I tried to reason with him.

"Tatiana, stop making a fool of yourself." he hissed into my ear before leaving the bedroom. I heard him lock the door causing my heart to sink to the floor as I realized it was not some sick game.

"Do you mind if I sit?"

I turned around to see the Grand Duke sitting where I had only been resting a few moments before. My head was spinning and for a moment I believed I would faint. His coy smile did nothing to detour from the intensity of his stare.

"I have wanted you for some time Tatiana." he bluntly professed.

"I want nothing to do with you," I replied to him in French, "Please leave." He laughed out loud and I stared at him in bewilderment.

"My dear, in case you have not noticed. You are in no place to be making demands of me. Vladimir has locked the door; it's just me and I tonight." I cried out in indignation when he began to remove his jacket.

"What are you doing?"

"I cannot make love to you dressed, can I?" he casually threw it onto the nearby chair. As he began to unbutton his vest, I began to tremble as fear and rage gripped me.

"Undress." He ordered. In a panic I ran towards my boudoir only to have him wrap an arm around my waist and pull me back against him. "Your fire only excites me." He whispered into my ear before placing wet disgusting kisses against my neck. I feigned surrender as he continued his kisses, believing I had yielded, he turned me to face him and smiled before leaning in to kiss me. I seized the opportunity and shoved him away from me with enough force he stumbled back as he nearly lost his footing.

He stared at me in utter amazement before lunging at me again but this time I escaped his grasp as I made it to the boudoir. I quickly locked the door and hurried to my jewelry cabinet. I could hear the Duke attempting to open the door. I knew if I did not obliged to Vladimir's request, I would pay dearly. I could not do as he asked. I refused to be anyone's whore, everyone had their limit and I had reached mine. I knew I could not remain, I would have to flee. I quickly grabbed a bag and filled it with some of the lighter pieces of jewels I would be able to sell if need be. I reached for a cloak and frankly searched for a silver engraved letter opener Vladimir had gifted to me recently. Locating it, I quickly lifted my skirt and hid the sharp object securing it with my garter. It was then I heard the door break open and as I turned around the Duke fell upon me.

I started to fight him with all my might. I knew I could not let him win. Fueled by anger and revolution I struck him as he attempted to kiss me, undeterred he wrestled me to the ground until I was beneath him. I gagged as his mouth crushed mine; his hands roaming over my figure despite my muffled protests. I began striking him with a closed fist in rage, wanting him to feel a fraction of the pain I was feeling at the moment as I realized he was far too strong for me to fight alone. One of his hands began to pull on the fabric on the front of my dress. His mouth at left mine as he began to his my neck and collar bone. I cried out in utter disgust and shock, I knew it would only get worse if I did not stop him somehow. I could feel his hard member pressing against my thigh he attempted to raise my skirt. Without hesitating my hand went to where I had hid the letter opener and I stabbed him in the neck. He screamed in agony as his hand flew to the wound on his neck. I quickly pushed him off and moved away from his injured person.

"Chienne!" he spat out as blood poured from his wound and mouth.

I stared at him without an ounce of remorse. I adjusted my clothes before quickly reaching for my cloak and my bag. With a surge of determination I made up my mind to leave no matter the cost. I looked down at the Duke who was still conscious, I knelt down before I spitting onto his face and removed the letter opener from his neck. He cried out again, hissing vulgarities as I stepped away from him. The hate and venom I saw reflected in his gaze is something I will never forget.

I went to my bedroom door and used the knife to force the lock. After several attempts I was finally able to open the door. I swiftly rushed out of the room towards the stairs. As I was nearing the bottom of the stairs I heard Vladimir cry, "Where do you think you are going?" I turned to see Vladimir rushing down the stairs towards me. I started to walk faster down the stairs knowing if he caught me, I would be unlikely to survive the night. Just as I finally reached the floor I felt his one his bodyguards grab me. In desperation I bit his hard causing his hold to loosen enough for me to use the small letter opener once more. I stabbed him in the knee and much to my surprise he fell to the floor.

"A person can only take so much!" I cried. "I swear if you come near me I will kill you and don't think that I won't! I have more than enough reasons to!"

I rushed out the house, I did not dare look back. Even as I ran past the gates and onto the streets I did not look back. Horror quickly gripped me as I began to come to my senses. I had possibly killed a man, and I had fled my home . I did not trust any of our acquaintances to help, I knew they would more than likely return me to Vladimir. It was at this moment I remembered Madame Giry. You had always said she was a woman I could trust."

 

Tatiana tear stained face looked at her father as she fell onto her knees before him.

"Forgive me for the sins I have committed, father." She begged. "Please forgive me."

Her father stared at her with a grief-stricken expression, his eyes red and moist. He remained still as he shook his head slowly, and for a moment she genuinely believed she had broken his heart.

"No Tatiana," he said as he knelt before her, "it is I who should be asking for forgiveness."

She cried as they embraced. Sobbing onto his shoulder as his absolution lifted a heavy burden from her conscious. As her father embraced her closer, for the first time in years, she felt an overwhelming sense of comfort and love that she had nearly forgotten existed.


	9. Awe

Chapter Nine: Awe

Erik rode his horse along the beach. The beautiful weather had lured him away from the haven of his bedroom. He had not yet come across Nicholas's daughter since their last encounter. It was likely for the best as he was still muddled over their previous exchange. He has resolved to restrain himself from any unpleasant encounters. Despite his crowing to the contrary, he knew Nicholas would never side against his only child. Should the capricious urchin decide to exercise her wish to have him removed from the estate, he did not doubt Nicholas would oblige. His jaw clenched as he cursed his brash words and lack of tact.

Should the need arise to leave the estate; at least he had resources to rely upon. Madame Giry had approached him earlier in the morning. She had presented him the small wealth he had saved over the years while residing in the Opera House. He had stared in shock as she gently pressed the carefully bundled gold into his hands. He had believed it all lost, yet she had managed to secure his wealth and return it to him. She could have kept the gold for herself yet she did not. He found himself once again indebted to her. Despite lingering hurt over her perceived betrayal, he had come to understand she had indeed acted out of concern for the well being of all parties involved. Her actions had not been guided by anger or spite, but rather the same noble instinct which had moved her many years before when she had extended a hand to a starved and frightened boy.

He looked around him and inhaled deeply. With his fortune returned to him, he could purchase his own home. As much as he enjoyed living under Nicholas's protection, he knew he could not depend on his generosity forever. It was best to retreat with pride than suffer the humiliation of being shown the door. Whatever fondness Nicholas felt for him was irrelevant; he knew his daughter would come before him. Troublesome creature, he thought with a slight twitch that touched the corner of his lips.

Her valor had piqued him. Torn between sentiments of amusement and anger, he had finally before decided she was unlike anyone he had ever met.

Something about that girl intrigued him. She was lovely there was no denying such an obvious fact, but there was something more than beauty that made her decidedly alluring. Despite his resolve to refrain from unpleasant encounters, he had been disappointed not to see her. He'd always been an admirer of beauty, especially at a distance. He paused as the creative wheels in his head began to turn. He urged the horse to turn and head towards the house. He was suddenly compelled to compose.

Tatiana and Meg descended the staircase discussing the beautiful clothing the seamstress was preparing for them. Nicholas had insisted on girls having a proper wardrobe, despite Madame Giry's vocal objections. She had been determined to depart for Paris but had been swayed by Meg's pleas. Enamored by the beautiful climate and spellbinding home, Meg had insisted they remain for a few days longer. Adamant they should not forgo the joy of experiencing the land they would likely never visit again once they departed. Tatiana had sided with Meg's argument insisting after two weeks of exhausting traveling; it was only they fair they should obtain a tranquil respite before engaging in another tedious journey. Their mutual goal was granted when an exasperated Madame Giry finally agreed.

****************************************************************************************************

Tatiana listed as Meg excitedly talked of the various fabrics and designs they had been shown. Although she was not as elated as Meg, it pleased her to see Meg elated by the mere prospect of new clothes. Meg was a steady of reminder of what it was to be young and carefree. Meg was petite and cheerful where she was tall and introverted. Their friendship was an unlikely one, yet she was grateful for Meg's amiable overtures. While Meg had no calms discussing various aspects of her life, she found herself less inclined to discuss any of her own personal details. It had been so long since she had been able to confide in someone, it was difficult to reciprocate Meg's trust.

Even with her apprehensiveness, Meg still gravitated towards her. Granted it was also difficult to befriend anyone else given their limited options. Her father and Madame Giry were often in each other's company, and although they regularly included their bothersome guest in their little gatherings, he for the most part kept to himself. Not that she minded his seclusion. She had no desire to see the infuriating man. She had purposely refrained from attending certain meals where he was to attend, and perhaps she did make it a point to avoid venturing out of her room during certain times. It was all in done to avoid any disagreeable encounters.

Although she had desired to be freed of the unwanted guest; her father had touched on the subject with gentle admonition.

"He is a man who has suffered much, Tatiana. I know he may seem quite rude at sometimes, but it is our duty to help those who are in need of our help. I will not turn my back on a person who had been wronged by the world." She had taken his words to heart and decided not to push to subject further. Disturbed by his presence but unable to have him evicted, her only solution was to avoid him at all cost.

They entered the veranda which provided a stunning view of beautiful landscape of the estate and the sea. Meg walked towards the edge resting one hand on the stone pillar.

"This place is beautiful."

"It is," Tatiana agreed as she took a seat in one of the wicker chairs. "The scenery alone is said to alleviate someone's poor health."

"I believe it." Meg smiled as she turned to look at her. "Did you come here often as a child?"

"Yes. My father only preferred to be in the city for the social season which is in the winter."

"Did you attend any of those social functions?"

"Yes. I was required to do so."

"You didn't enjoy going to them?"

"I enjoyed them, especially the Bal Blanc."

"The Bal Blanc? What is that?"

"It is the ball where young unmarried girls attend wearing a dress of virginal white and dance with young officers as chaperones look on."

"Did you have a suitor then?" Meg asked as she sat beside her.

"I had several men seeking my hand. None I considered seriously due to their ambitious aspirations."

"How do you know that? You are a very pretty girl."

"Believe me, they were not after me. They were all formal and seemed to be seeking my father's approval more than my own."

"You had no say in who you would marry?"

"Marriages are decided upon by families, it is all very formal and business like. There are only a few who are fortunate enough to marry for affection."

There was the sad truth which no one ever discussed with the poor gullible girls whose imaginations took them no further than the alter. They believed they would meet their prince charming and live happily ever after. None realized, their fates were usually decided upon far before they debuted into society. It was a deceitful farce.

"You seem to know much about the world yet you are only slightly older than myself." Tatiana smiled and shook her head.

"The difference between us Meg is that I have been married to the worst of men, while you have yet to kiss one." She teased knowing it would cause her young inexperienced friend to blush. "Now come. There is much you must see and learn."

"Learn?" Meg asked surprised.

"Yes, learn. If you are going to be here for the social season then you must learn about our culture and ways, or else the woman of society will have your pretty little blond head."

Tatiana had decided Meg would go to Saint Petersburg with her in time for the "Season" which would begin on New Year's day. She had two months to prepare Meg for the endless round of concerts, banquets, balls, and midnight suppers they would be required to attend. She was determined to enjoy her newfound freedom with her new friend. It would also allow her father some additional time to win some favor with the reserved Madame Giry.

Tatiana walked into her bedroom and locked her door. Even though her father reassured her she was safe, the fear of her husband appearing was very present in her mind. She knew it was only a matter of time before he presented himself. She was a liability, and it was critical she obtained a divorce as discreetly and efficiently as possible.

She began to undress, removing her boots first as her feet were aching to be freed. She rubbed her foot between her hands. The persistent ache had been ignored as she roamed the estate with Meg. She did not regret her aching feet as it was a small price to pay compared to the lively afternoon she had enjoyed with Meg. She had felt like a carefree adolescent rather than a placid matron.

As she continued undressing, she heard a soft tune begin to play.

It was a very soft but uniquely alluring tune. It was keenly poignant stirring various sentiments of melancholy. She ceased her undressing as she sat on her chaise lounge leaning back against the cushioned seat. Closing her eyes she allowed herself to be lured by the hypnotic composition. It was not too long before the playing ceased. After a few silent moments it resumed and she surrendered to the dazed relaxation the odd yet powerful tune was achieving.

**********************************************************************************

Erik walked into Nicholas's office as usual without knocking. Nicholas no longer tried to remind him it was a common courtesy but simply allowed him to do as he pleased. It was a privilege he did not extend to many, but their unlikely camaraderie allowed such trivial exceptions.

"Erik what a pleasant surprise, please come in." Nicholas teased. Erik snorted as he sat in usual chair.

"Needing legal advice, Nicholas?" Erik motioned at the various legal books opened on the desk.

"Yes, but so far I'm unable to find anything of use to me. Now tell me what brings you here."

"I have not seen you as of late. You are regularly entertained with your daughter or Madame Giry," he commented casually, "If I did not know her as well as I do, I would almost dare believe there was something wrongful between the two of you." Nicholas looked at him with a minor indignation.

"She is my beloved." he declared flatly.

"Do not toy with her Nicholas." Erik subtly warned.

"Erik I do not see how this is any of your business."

"I dare to breech the subject because she does not deserve to be harmed by you or any man," Erik confessed, "She is in many ways all the family I have and I refuse to see her hurt whether it be directly or indirectly."

Nicholas looked at Erik before opening a locked drawer in his desk. He pulled out a velvet box, before opening it. From within he pulled out a small frame. It was a miniature painting of Madame Giry as a teenager, perhaps no older than Meg in the portrait. He looked at the frame briefly and before extending it to Erik.

"Antoinette and I were very young when we met. I have loved her since my youth, and for a time I sought to make her my bride," Nicholas confessed, "however my selfish desires would eventually drive a barrier between us. I would never harm her. I swear to you, she will not suffer on my account."

"If you love her why do you not marry her?"

"She will not have me."

"You have asked?"

"There is still much to be discussed and resolved between us," Nicholas took the portrait from Erik's gloved hand. "Now, I hear you have made an impression on my daughter." Erik's only response was to smirk.

"I'm aware you two are not fond of each other, but I do believe living arrangements would be much less tensed if you two could at least be amicable towards one another."

"Your daughter does not share your favorable character, Nicholas."

"I'm afraid she did but the last two years have altered her. Like you she has suffered much. Anger, bitterness, and resentment have taken hold of some aspects of her personality where they previously did not exist."

"I doubt she has suffered as I have."

"I have never asked you of Christine, nor do I intend to. I will simply provide the same advice I gave to Tatiana; something's are left better in the past."

"Something's cannot be left in past." Erik shook his head slightly. "It does not take a genius to conclude your daughter has fled her husband. Nicholas, what are going to do if her husband comes searching for her?"

"I will defend her by whatever means at my disposal."

*************************************************************************************************

Tatiana entered her room with a handful of books. It was late and although the room was covered in darkness she knew the layout of her bedroom enough to get around even without the benefit of light. She had been attempting to find legal information regarding grounds for divorce, and she had yet to find a loop hole that would allow her to leave the marriage with her name intact. She put the books down on her desk before walking towards her bed falling back against the pillows. Her eyes were heavy and irritated from her fanatic reading. She would continue researching in the morning. At the moment, her exhaustion was such; she would lay her head on her soft pillow welcoming the lure of sleep. Just as she began to drift into sleep, she felt gloved knuckles gently brush against her cheek.

"Madame Feodrova, I do believe we got off on the wrong foot."

She quickly leaped out of bed. Her heart was beating erratically against her chest, yet surprisingly no cry escaped her lips. It wasn't long before a match was struck and the lamp beside her bed was lit. He was standing casually by her bed. His eyes dancing with laughter, and an irritating smirk upon his lips once more.

"I prefer Alexandrova." she declared flatly.She had to be nice; she had promised her father she would be nice.

"Do you hate your husband that much?"

Be nice...she chided herself.

"Does it really matter?" she asked becoming defensive,

"No I suppose not, Madame Alexandrova, although in truth you are far too young to be a Madame." Despite his reserved reply, she did not miss how he observed her slender figure.

"Thank you Monsieur..."

"Erik. Just call me Erik."

"You do not have a last name?"

"Does it matter? I prefer Erik." She clenched her jaw as he replied in kind.

"Very well, Erik. If you wish to be addressed informally I suppose it is only right you call me Tatiana, but please do not abuse the privilege."

"And I hope you learn to behave yourself as the young proper lady you are suppose to be." He teased.

She snorted unable to contain the smile that touched her lips.

"Now that formalities are put aside, can I ask why you here?"

He smiled and for the first time she was forced to admit, he was a rather handsome man. His dark hair was brushed back, curving slightly over his ears. His face, at least the uncovered portion of his face was pleasant to look upon. Handsome some would have called him even. His immaculate clothing fitted him perfectly, granting him an aura of grandeur.

"I have many questions that I find only you can answer for me."

"Tell me Erik, supposing I knew the answers to your questions why would I tell you them? I have no obligation to you." she said as she walked towards her small sofa and sat down.

"We have much in common Tatiana. I believe we can do much for each other."

"I really doubt you can do anything for me, Erik."

"Oh I believe you can. You wish to divorce your husband and I do believe I can obtain that for you."

"You can do that?" A glimmer of hope gripped her unexpectedly.

"What would you give for your freedom?" he inquired with his gaze never wavering from hers.

"I would give you anything you asked." She responded unashamed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! If I could be free of Vladimir I would pay whatever price you ask."

"My dear, I do not seek your money." She blinked in astonishment.

"Well what do you want?"

"You."


	10. Agreement

Chapter 10: Agreement

Tatiana was momentarily left aghast by his brazenness. The moment quickly passed as her blood began to circulate once more. Her eyes narrowed as his inscrutable expression.

"Excuse me?" She did not attempt to mask her chagrin. She tensed slightly as he began to approach her. His movements were slow, almost cautiously calculated.

"Please do not look so offended. You can relinquish whatever salacious thoughts you are currently entertaining; I can assure they are nothing of what I have in mind." Her jaw clenched in irritation as she noted his eyes appeared to glitter with amusement. "As lovely as your face may be, I'm afraid you're a rather too asperous for my taste." He raised a gloved hand and slowly pulled aside a few loose strands of hair that had fallen over her face. Her gaze never wavered from his. "I wish for you to educate me in the ways of your people."

"Teach you?" She blinked in puzzlement. "Aside from a few asperous tendencies of your own, one could almost mistake you for a gentleman." His lips curled into small smile.

"Merci Madame," his tone had a mixture of amusement and something she could not quite place. "I aspire to learn the language and customs of this country, and do to so I'm afraid I'm in need of a knowledgeable instructor."

"This may sound slightly deranged but why not hire someone?"

"Perhaps it may have escaped your notice but my appearance is somewhat irregular." She inwardly cringed as she recalled her blunt remark during their previous exchange. "Many are disturbed by my appearance; however you have yet to blanch at the sight of my mask."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Hardly, merely an observation."

"I'm afraid I do not believe I'm the adequate person to educate anyone."

"Are you not currently educating Meg Giry?" He inquired with feigned ignorance.

"Why not ask my father? He seems to be remarkably fond of you." She casually averted his question. "Would it not be simpler to seek his assistance?"

"A wise choice except for the current restrictions of his leisure time," He shrugged casually before motioning at the chair nearby, "do you mind?"

"Please do." She motioned for him to sit.

"I'm sure it has not escaped your notice how frequently your father is in the company of Madame Giry."

"Naturally," she noted his elegant poise as he sat. He carries himself well, she thought.

"Your father is far too busy between his business and Madame Giry. Who am I to inconvenience him with my needs?"

"Yet have no calms about inconveniencing me."

"It would not be an inconvenience if we were to mutually benefit."

"You appear very confident you'll be able to secure my divorce."

"I have a talent for persuasiveness." His eyes appeared to dance with amusement.

She weighed his words cautiously. Her father may be inclined to trust the man; however it would be foolish for her to place her trust in a stranger. She noted how distinctly different he was conducting himself. His manners underlined the education of a cultivated aristocrat.

"My husband is not easily persuaded," she admitted, "even if he was, I'm afraid the outcome of our marriage will be decided upon higher powers." She reflected briefly on the truth of her words. Even now her eventual fate was out of her hands.

"I admit I am unfamiliar with the legal proceedings regarding martial separations. Regardless of the country, the concept is scarcely executed, especially in families such as yours."

"I'm well aware," she detected a slight accent, one she could not quite place. "You say you wish to learn the language of my country, why?"

"One can hardly reside in a country without understanding the language."

"You will remain as guest for an extended period of time then?"

"Does this disturb you?"

"By no means," she lied smoothly, "merely curious." She could not dismiss the suspiciousness he inspired. He was by all means a stranger, yet it was highly doubtful her father would have welcomed him into their home unless there was some familiarity. "Let's say I accept your offer, what exactly do you need to know?"

"Everything; I'm accustomed to the French culture, Madame."

"Fortunate for you Russian society strives to emulate the French culture. I will do as you ask but you do not need to bother yourself with my divorce." He raised his eyebrow in surprise before slowly rising.

"Then what do you require? I do not like to owe anyone anything." He inquired as he walked towards her bedroom window.

"You will owe me a favor. One I will call upon that favor when needed. Is this agreeable?" He turned his head slightly so he could look over his shoulder, his eye fixed on hers.

"Yes."

"Wonderful," she smiled innocently, "I would suggest we begin in the morning, for there is much you will need to learn, especially if you wish to participate in the upcoming social season."

**************************************************************************************************************************************

Madame Giry frowned as she looked over Meg's new clothing. She shook her head in displeasure. She had expressly asked Nicholas she not to indulge her daughter, yet her words appeared to have fallen on deaf ears. Seventeen new day dresses had been delivered in the morning much to her surprise. Before the delivery their wardrobe combined would not have made up of seventeen dresses. The morning delivery had been followed by four ball gowns, ten pairs of shoes, cloaks, hats, gloves, corsets, and jewelry. His extravagance was unsettling. He had managed to convince her to remain until Spring, after their social season ended. She had reluctantly agreed, swayed by his charismatic manner and Meg's pleading words. She had gone against her better judgment, as it was evident Meg was becoming far too attached to the enchanted of nobility. She had attempted to bring Meg down from her little cloud but she seemed to really believe they would remain there forever. A beautiful dream it would be, she mused sadly.

Madame Giry walked slowly to her dresser and began to go through a few things, before finally reaching what she was searching for. Her ebony engraved box that had belonged to her father. She removed her necklace, which held the key to the box and carefully opened it. Inside were several letters bound by a black ribbon. She carefully untied the knot before setting the ribbon carefully aside. Her small box contained several things that were dear to her. The box, which had belonged to her father, a pair of tiny booties that had been Meg's, her engagement ring, a black ribbon from the first rose Erik gave her, and letters from Nicholas. These objects appeared in one way or another to reflect her life.

My own sweet Antoinette,

I thank you for the recent letter I received. Your words caused my eyes to moist with emotion. If there was any justice in this world, fate would grant me the opportunity to spend eternity in your arms, since we are to be denied the right to share this lifetime together. My Antoinette, I pray you are well every night. I sometimes find myself walking through the garden, reminiscing on our secret rendezvous. How I would wait in the shadows impatiently, until you would run to greet me arriving out of breath and flushed. Remember our stolen kisses in the shadows of the trees?

Life is so cruel to allow me a glimpse of happiness only to deny me my grandest wish. Always remember this Antoinette; I may not have always treated you well, but I have always loved you to the best of my abilities. Please kiss little Meg for me. I hope she enjoys the new dancing shoes. I hope to one day see her on stage, dancing with same grace as her mother.

With all my Love,

Nicky

She brought the letter to her lips and kissed it, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. It was no time to cry, she had too many things to do. Hearing the footsteps approaching, she fumbles with the items in her hand until they fall onto the floor. She kneels to floor to pick up her precious items.

"Look Mama! Monsieur Alexandrov gave me a pair of earrings to go with my new blue dress." She beamed as she opened the small box in her hand. Her smile slowly faded as she approached her mother.

"Mama, what is wrong?" She dropped to her knees next to her mother.

"Nothing child," She tried to wipe the tears away as she put the letters away. "What did Nicholas give you now?"

"Are they not beautiful?"Meg lifted her hand to show her mother the sapphire earrings.

"He gave you those? Meg you cannot accept them." she declared sternly as she finished putting the items in the books. She locked it and quickly put it back in her dresser.

"But Mama!"

"No! You are setting yourself up for disappointment. You are here as a guest. What is going to happen when we return to Paris? This is not our life, it will never be. I expect you to return those earrings at once." Meg nodded bitterly.

"I don't understand. He is being kind, and you behave as though his gifts are offensive."

"It is wrong to accept gifts from a man who is not family," she glared, "How many times have I not warned you never to accept gifts from men?"

"Mousier Alexandrov is not just any man. He is a good man who is very fond of you."

"It is inappropriate."

"Why do you always refuse to speak of Monsieur Alexandrov and your past?" she asked.

"My personal life is just that, personal," Madame Giry warned as she closed the dresser, "do not change the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject. We are finished talking about the earrings. I will return them, mother. I'm now beginning a new conversation. Why do you always try to avoid any questions relating to your past with Monsieur Alexandrov?"

"Meg, go return the earnings. I have too many things to do to sit here and explain things that do not concern you."

"I would think a man attempting to court my mother would be of my interest."

"He is not courting me."

"Only because you will not allow him to," Meg smiled, "It is not difficult to see how much he esteems you."

"We are old friends."

"I don't think old friends would look at each other the way you two do."

"Meg!"

"It's true!"

"Enough." She gave her daughter one sharp look, which quickly had Meg retreating from her mother's sight. Irritation flooded her senses. She inhaled deeply as she closed her eyes. Perhaps it was time for their trip to end?


	11. Bond

Chapter Eleven

Erik didn't know what to make of the young Countess. Their nightly lessons had served to reveal nothing of her inner thinking. Formal, almost to a fault, she appeared to posses nothing of her father's natural charm. Despite her aloof manner, he had conceded, albeit begrudgingly, she possessed of the keenest minds he had ever encountered. Granted his interactions were limited, however, he prided himself in recognizing talent and intellect, even from a distance. Perhaps it was his appreciation of knowledge, or simply the pleasure of interacting with a beautiful woman, but he genuinely looked forward to their nightly interactions.

He was thriving under the challenge to master the language. Whatever material she presented to him, he absorbed it with relish, and confidently recited the text to her. She had yet to praise him; however, he noted the books she presented him were far challenging than the novice material she had originally presented him with. He accepted the unspoken challenge with veiled mirth.

From his seat he could see young Meg Giry and Tatiana walking along the path that led to the beach. As if sensing his gaze, she turned back to look around her before raising her head slightly to look directly at the veranda where he was seated. He held her gaze; she gave a slight nod in acknowledgement, before she turned her attention back to Meg. His lips curved into an amused smirk.

Despite Tatiana's reserved demeanor she appeared to gravitate towards her young companion. The two girls could not have been more of a contradiction he noted. From their height difference, to their hair color, to their temperaments, they were as different as two girls could be. It was easy to forget in theory they were similar in age.

Meg had never struggled to make friends. He could recall the little blond girl running along the stage easily bringing a smile to even the most roughneck of the stagehands had always fallen to for her innocent charm. It should not surprise him she was able to win Tatiana over, yet it did. Tatiana's nature hardly seemed receptive to anyone. Her attitude although never rude was reserved, almost painfully so. Even with the staff who had known her all her life. One more than one occasion he had overheard the staff discreetly remarking on her change. He was more than a curious to know, exactly how she had been before her marriage.

Everyone concurred her altered personality came as a direct result of her marriage. A marriage which had evidently proved disastrous. She never mentioned her estranged husband, nor did anyone for that matter. The entire matter was an intriguing puzzle much like Countess herself..

"You appear particularly pensive this afternoon, Erik."

"I suppose I am." He turned to Nicholas. "Come to enjoy the view?"

The veranda allowed them a perfect view of the garden, mountains and coast. In truth, it was a harmonious room, one he frequented on a daily basis.

"Today is a beautiful day, is it not?" Nicholas inquired casually taking a seat beside him.

"Indeed it is."

"If I may be so bold-"

"Out with it."

"I cannot help but notice you've taken on a more vigorous outlook."

"This concerns you?"

"Far from it," Nicholas chuckled, "it is warmly and genuinely welcomed. One can only lament for so long before it toxins the soul."

"I suppose I cannot argue with your logic."

"My daughter made an interesting remark this morning."

"Oh?"

"She stated you appear to have a sharp mind."

"Was it ever in doubt?"

"I'm very aware of your genius. However, I was not aware my daughter had been exposed to it as well."

"We have exchanged words."

"I'm pleased to see you two are at least being cordial towards one another."

"Madame Giry did her best to indoctrinate some decorum into my upbringing."

"You revere Antoinette as something of a parental figure." Nicholas observed. "She is only a few years older than yourself."

"I have never seen her as a maternal figure," he admitted.

"Oh?"

"Set aside your dubious thoughts. My sentiments have never extended into the romantic domain."

Nicholas laughed as he gave him a slight pat on the shoulder, causing his lips to twitch into a small but genuine smile.  
****************************************************************************************************************

"Honestly Meg, this is more for your benefit than my entertainment." Tatiana quipped.

Meg gave her a sheepish smile. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate Tatiana's attentions; it was simply all so tedious. She had never been a very good student, much to her mother's dismay. The stage had always dominated her thoughts. Her aspirations to conquer the stage as one of its finest dancers had the force behind her strict training. Numbers and letters had hardly seemed important then, or even now she mused as she looked down at the book in her hands.

"I never had the head for these thing," she freely confessed, "Mama will tell you what I failure I was as a child."

"You are far from dense Meg," Tatiana took the book from her hands; "there is nothing you cannot learn if you set your mind to it."

"You sound like Mama."

"Apply yourself Meg."

"What is the use? Mama says we will be departing soon."

"I highly doubt it." Tatiana said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"She was very adamant about it."

"Actions speak louder than words."

"What do you mean?"

"She has claimed she wishes to depart, yet has taken no true action to actually depart."

"I suppose. The climate here is so lovely and appealing; it makes it difficult to leave."

"It's not the weather retaining her."

She frowned at Tatiana's choice of words. She was perhaps not as sharp as others; however she understood sarcasm perfectly clear.

Despite her mother's reluctance to enlighten her as to what exactly had transpired between herself and the noble Prince, it was evident their history was not only profound but also very present. She had grown up observing flirtations between stagehands and ballerinas, to know and understand the meaning behind those hidden glances.

It was infuriating as it was frustrating to be practically the only person in the household who was being kept in the dark. Even the aloof and mysterious Erik appeared to more than she did.

Tatiana as with everything seemed to understand everything perfectly well. She enjoyed Tatiana's company and she was always so generous, but it was daunting to look at a woman who by all means was the ideal noblewoman. Beautiful, refined, and intelligent with a genuine good heart to spare. As if she could not be any more perfect, she thought with a touch of envy.

"Meg please read this," Tatiana handed her a different book. "You may remain here longer than you believe; would it not be convenient to immerse yourself in the culture without the need of a translator?"

"Your language is so difficult."

"Meg you perpetual child," Tatiana huffed, "I'll make you a deal. You read this, and I'll let you have my new burgundy dress you liked so much."

"The one with the velvet brocade?"

"The very one."

"Throw in the matching hat."

"Gladly."

"I would have done without the hat." She grinned.

"And I would have given you the gown regardless."  
*********************************************************************************************************************************

She noticed him standing idly by the window. He did not move nor acknowledge her presence as she approached him. She had noticed him conversing with Nicholas earlier, not wishing to intrude in their conversation she had abstained from approaching the men. Despite their daily interactions, she felt a wedge between them. She detected no anger or resentment directed at her. Somehow she was more perturbed by this. He was too withdrawn, far more than he had been previously. At least he had confided in her then. Now, she reflected sadly, now was stronger in some aspects yet weaker in others. It was impossible to deny the events of his last night in Paris had not profoundly affected him.

"Your brooding thoughts are practically screaming at me, Antoinette."

"You are not the only one who has much to think upon." She stood at his side observing as the sunset. From their vantage point, it appeared as though the sun was sinking into the ocean. It was a truly beautiful view.

"Stunning is it not?"

"It is." She conceded. "I cannot recall the last time I observed a sunset. There had always been much to do. Rarely had there been a pause for thought; let alone indolence."

"You are concerned." She turned to look at him and observed his new mask. It was similar to the one he tended to favor, with the exception it appeared to be slightly more slender.

"After so many years of priding myself in understanding you so well, it never occurred to me you could mirror my sentiments."

"You have not answered my question." She rested her hand on his arm and was pleased when he did not refrain from her touch.

"I had hoped this time away would be of benefit to you," she began carefully, "and despite seeing genuine improvements, I cannot help but be concern over the grief I know you must be enduring yet never discuss." Gathering her courage, she continued. "I realize you may not trust, nor hold me to same esteem as you may have once, however, I cannot help but concern myself with your well being."

His demeanor did not falter under her words. Had it been anyone else addressing him, his silence would be equivalent to a dismissal. Perhaps it was, she wondered. Their relationship had gone through many changes over the years. From that of friendship, to one of siblings, to partners, until he had somehow become a dominate figure in her life. He had never asked for obedience and unwavering loyalty, she had given it, and in return he had provided a support and stability she had desperately needed especially after the death of her husband. With some penance she realized the distancing had actually begun years ago. She had simply ignored the sad truth. Their unspoken agreement had fitted both their needs, but at what cost? A strong gloved hand came over hers. She blinked in surprise as she turned to look at Erik.

"I do not know how to grieve." She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, his hand remaining over hers. "I refrain from speaking not because of a lack of trust or esteem but rather my incapacity to properly understand, formulate, or even express the poignant emotions within me."

He towered over her, had so for years. Yet at that moment, she felt as though she were standing next to the precarious yet vulnerable young boy in the cage she had met so many years ago. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I'm here Erik. I'll always be here." She was rewarded with another gentle squeeze of her hand.


	12. Refrainment

Chapter Twelve

"Proof?" she repeated stunned

"A divorce cannot be granted on the terms of adultery without evidence supporting the claim." Nicholas clarified as he crossed his arms and look down thoughtfully.

"They will not accept my word?"

"I'm afraid not, Countess." The stern attorney declared.

"What of his ill treatment towards my daughter?" Nicholas inquired.

"We can attempt to argue cruelty; however, it is rarely enough to sway the Holy Synod. If I may be frank?" Nicholas nodded. "Divorce is rarely granted, and when it is, the outcome is rarely in favor of the woman."

"I'm well aware." She remarked with a sharp edge to her tone.

"I'm merely doing my duty to inform you of the challenges you will face regardless of the outcome."

She frowned at the man. Naturally, she had known a divorce would not be easily obtained. She had been prepared for a tedious drawn out process, however she had not expected for her own attorney to be against her.

"My daughter and I are very aware of the stigma attributed to divorce. We would not be seeking this route unless we had just cause, Petrov."

"Understood." Petrov gave a solemn nod. "We will need witness. Anyone who can sustain the claims. Given the delicate nature of the alleged infidelity committed by Count Feodrov, we will need more than one witness."

"No one will come forward." She looked at her father. "No one would ever admit to such a thing without implicating themselves."

"The Count may be swayed to avoid scandal by admitting his adultery without specifics." Petrov frowned thoughtfully. "We could persuade him to admit fault and in return we will not voice the unsavory accusations in official court documents or in private."

"In other words provide him with a way to walk away without soiling his name." The very idea seemed unjust and somehow cruel.

"It may not please you, but it could yield the outcome you desire."

"Tatiana, I understand your hesitation, however we should look at all of the cards available to us."

"I require time to think."

"Of course." Petrov stood from his chair. "I will begin preparing your case and await your word on how to proceed."

"Thank you. If you will both excuse me, I wish to rest for a moment."

She retreated from her father's study unable to remain in the room a minute longer. Having to recall disturbing personal details to a stranger had been as distressing as it was humiliating. Compounded by Petrov's apathetic demeanor, she had felt exposed and worse judged. Logically she believed Petrov was doing his duty to assess the case by the facts, yet her logic could not dominate her emotions. The shame of the experience would linger for some time. A feeling of suffocation plagued her as she headed towards the small terrace. She inhaled deeply as she finally stepped into the open air.

"I take your consultation has concluded." She turned to see Madame Giry sitting in a corner of the terrace.

"Yes."

"Be patient." The older woman advised.

"I wish to be," she admitted, "I'm afraid I did not inherit all of my father's finer qualities."

"You did, you simply do not realize it yet." For some reason her words somehow comforted her. Despite physically resembling her father, she would be the first to concede she had failed to adapt his temperament and gentle mannerisms.

"Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for."

"Madame Giry?"

"Yes?"

"My father is fond of you." The unmistakable pink tinge appeared across Madame Giry's face. "I do not mean to embarrass you; I simply wish to be open and sincere."

"I understand," she looked at her hands which were resting on her lap. "I also understand it appears foolish for someone of my age-"

"Never be ashamed of being loved." She took a seat beside the woman who had helped her when she had been under no obligation to. The same woman her father had been longing for over two decades. "My father is revived by your presence."

"He is overjoyed at having his only daughter returned."

"Is it so hard to believe a man can rejoice at having his child and beloved near him after a long separation?"

"I'm not his beloved." She whispered uncomfortably.

"You are, and I do hope you believe me, when I say I'm thankful for your presence and the effect it has had on my father."

She had been respectful and kept her distance as she watched her father and Madame Giry cautiously dance around each other. It was easier to feign ignorance however she felt somehow committed expressing her approval somehow. Her father made no attempt to conceal his affections and although Madame Giry was more discreet, it was evident she returned his sentiments.

"Thank you Tatiana. You are very kind to me, and to my daughter." She gave a slight laugh. "I'm well aware my daughter is not the most adapt pupil. Your patience will be tested."

"She needs to only apply herself."

"I have been echoing the same statement to her all her life, but alas, she's is hopeless. I suppose my expectations where somehow lifted because of Erik. He always craved knowledge and absorbed everything with such easy, a sharper mind one could not ask for."

"You educated him?"

"Yes."

"I applaud you for his education and manners are far more refined than one would expect-"she paused as she realized her faux pas. "Forgive me, I did not mean to imply-."

"I know what you meant. There is nothing to forgive. Frankly, Erik has always been a wonder to me in that regard. We are not wealthy, titled yet Erik's education and manners are very much that of an aristocrat." She smiled slightly. "Although, I will be the first to admit, his temper sometimes undermines his better qualities."

"I believe we are all guilty of allowing our temperaments get the best of us at one point or another."

"Indeed." They both her smiled at one another.

"Shall we order something to drink?"

"Yes, please. It would be lovely."

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

Meg ran her hands over the soft fabric of the gown Tatiana had gifted to her as promised. It was exquisite, she thought with glee. She would have to alter the dress as Tatiana was several inches taller than she, but she did not care, so long as it looked half as lovely as it had looked on her.

"You should not have accepted the dress." Her mother frowned in disapproval.

"It would have been rude to refuse a gift."

"It was a bribe not a gift."

"She said she would have gifted it to me regardless, mama."

"I do not understand why you reproach me yet say nothing to others."

"Do not take that tone with me Meg." There was an edge to her mother's tone, one she stubbornly refused to bow to.

"It is true! You say nothing of the generosity bestowed upon Erik, even when he does not deserve-"

"Enough you intolerable child!"

"Mama?"

"You know nothing of you speak, and understand nothing of what understandings and agreement may be in play around us. We are no one to assume, question or demand anything. Do you understand?" Meg slowly nodded; too hurt and angry to verbally respond. "You will not come down for dinner this evening. Sometime alone will provide you with enough time think very carefully over what I have said."

With one last disappointed glance, her mother retreated, leaving her to seethe in silence.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************

Consumed by his creative mind, he had forgone the pleasure of dinner. It was not the first time he had missed a meal, doubted it would be the last. Having devoted much of his afternoon and evening in the confines of his bedroom, he had left his room in search of fresh air.

During the day the estate was alive with activity, but during the evenings, it was notably silent. An eerie reminder of his previous nocturnal walks in a place he will likely never see again. He would adjust and adapt as he always had, however, in his heart of hearts, the Opera Populaire would always be held in grand esteem as his home. A home he was now exiled from.

He paused at the sight of the west wing. His steps had taken beyond the staircase towards an area he never ventured into. It was his understanding there was nothing of interest in the wing, except additional guest bedrooms. The prominent family coat of arms which hung over the entrance to the hall did not go unnoticed.

Aristocrats, even humbled ones, took particular pride in their lineage.

Even in a wing rarely utilized, if Nicholas was to be believed, the halls were adored with art. He wondered if it was fair for a select few in the world to posses such wealth.

He stopped at the entrance of what appeared to be a drawing room. There were no doors simply an open passage. Stepping into the room he noted the walls were heavily adorned with portraits. There were dozens of portraits, even a few scattered photographs. He noticed many of the subjects in these portraits shared two distinctive traits, the same colored eyes and hair.

"They're family," he whispered to himself as he focused on one portrait in particular. The portrait featured a fair haired woman with deep emerald eyes. Her features were soft yet unique, although she could not be called striking, neither could he label her plain.

There was something familiar about the woman, he concluded, yet the answer evaded him for several moments as he continued to admire the portrait in silence.

"I see you have met my mother." He turned to see Tatiana near the doorway. She appeared hesitant before taking a few cautious steps forward. Her movements were slow; graceful in way one would not expect for someone of her height. No doubt a practiced art, he mused.

"She is your mother?" He observed her features finding little resemblance to the woman in the portrait.

"Yes," her gaze turned to the portrait before them. He noted the light green dress she wore was casual and more than likely worn to fit the weather than a fashion statement. Despite its plainness, the color contrasted beautifully with her coloring. "She was a delicate beauty, or so I've been told."

"There is some resemblance, although it is clear you take after your father."

"And grandmother." Tatiana pointed to a portrait of dark haired woman with olive rose skin and one of the most enchanting gazes he had ever seen. She stood proudly, her head titled to the side, her long neck adorned with a diamond necklace. Her lips were slightly parted with one corner giving a hint of a smile. It was evident Tatiana had inherited much of her appearance from her father and grandmother. The resemblance was uncanny.

"There is a strong resemblance." He conceded as his eyes moved over the portrait.

Her long curls were styled to fall down her back as several diamonds were styled within her hair. The style was very similar to one worn by Christine when she debuted on the stage for the first time.

How beautiful she had been. His heart beat fervently within his chest at the memory. Beautiful, was not a strong enough word to properly describe her. She had possessed rare combination of innocence and radiance. He closed his eyes as the burning memory, desperate to suppress her memory.

"Is something wrong?" Tatiana inquired. He opened his eyes unable to see a puzzled expression reflected across her face.

"No." He lied.

Flashes of painful memories began to invade his mind. The moment Christine had removed his mask. The audience gasping in horror as he stood exposed. He had loved her. Given her everything he had to give his love, his music, his being, and she had turned him down. Opting for the handsome boy instead, who would never love her as he had loved her, loved her still.

"Excuse me I must leave." He rasped as his emotions threatened to overcome him. He refused to lose his composure in front of Tatiana. Not in front of her or anyone, never again, he thought bitterly.

"What happened to you, Erik?"


	13. Temperament

Chapter Thirteen

She had not expected to stumble upon Erik in the portrait gallery.

Despite their regular interactions during their lessons and meals, they were cautiously formal with one another. Neither trusted the other particularly, but she trusted her father's judgment.

This man with no past or title was held in esteem by her father. Her father would not trust him without just cause; therefore she was willing to extend some trust, albeit with some reluctance.

To be fair, she struggled in extending trust to any person; however Erik's enigmatic personality only served to justify her reluctance. Still, in spite of her weariness of the man, she had come to respect his keen intelligence. Their lessons had allowed her to see a man who was eager to learn, and desperate to move forward with his life. She knew little of his person, even less of his past, yet it was evident he was eager to leave it all behind.

Then there was the issue of the mask. Out of respect she had never inquired about it, however her curiosity was increasing. It was not difficult to ascertain the mask was concealing an injury. It would be inconsiderate and rude to breech the subject with anyone. Therefore she did her best to keep her curiosity at bay, mostly by keeping herself occupied.

It wasn't difficult. Whereas Erik has surprised her with his astuteness, Meg was the opposite. Meg was making progress, all things considered. Meg required extra attentions which helped keep her occupied. The extra effort did not detour her, in fact, it only made her more determined to help Meg. Meg was everything she wished she could be. Carefree, open and with an infectious glee, everyone simply gravitated to her.

Nearly everyone, she thought as she observed Erik. He only engaged her father and Madame Giry in any meaningful conversation. To her knowledge he had yet to cross a word with Meg. A small smile escaped her as she imagined poor little Meg's reaction if Erik were to approach her. She was terrified of the man, even if she claimed to know he would never harm her.

Erik's solitary nature was something she understood very well. She also understood loneliness was not always the only companion one sought. Gathering her courage she had approached him. Receptive to her tentative attempt at a conversation, she noted how his expression changed from questioning to one of detachment. Then when she pointed to her grandmother's portrait his usual cool reserve slipped as a pained expression briefly came over his features. Her brows came together in confusion as she observed his momentarily lapse of composure. It was startling to see a man usually in rigid control of his emotions have a lapse before her very eyes.

'Erik has suffered much…' her father's words suddenly came back to her as Erik attempted a haste withdraw.

"What happened to you, Erik?" She could not resist asking against her better judgement as she stared at the back of the emotionally constrained man.

******************************************************************************************************************

He stopped at the sound of her voice. For a moment he almost laughed out load.

"What hasn't happened to me?" He said with a light mock laugh. He started to move once more but felt her soft hand on his arm.

"If I'm willing to allow you a glimpse into my past, my history, why can't you?"

"I do not talk about my past, and perhaps neither should you." He had not meant to be cruel, but it came so naturally to him. For a moment he could have sworn he saw hurt in her gaze but then it disappeared behind those gloriously cold eyes.

"Very well. See if I ever attempt to befriend you again. You may leave." she declared with a wave of her hand. A surge of humiliating rage overcame him.

"I will tell you Madame I will leave when I choose to leave! Not when some capricious creature presumes to orders me to!"

"How dare you!" Her eyes darkened with anger.

"I dare because it is the truth," he hissed.

"You sir are no gentleman despite your bravado."

"I have never claimed a title that was not earned." He snapped. "Can you say the same?"

"If you had any decency you would hold your tongue and show gratitude!"

"Gratitude! I owe you nothing! You twisted Lorelei!"

"You are here only because of my father's compassion."

"I could say the same thing about you." He hissed as he hovered closer to her.

"You are nothing than a social outcast who will never be accepted no matter how desperate your attempts! You can feign manners but a pauper in fine clothes is still a pauper."

"You heartless emmerdeuse! Whatever your husband did to you I'm sure you had it well deserved!"

In an instant he felt the sting of her slap. His head had jerked to the side from the impact. He was sure there was an imprint on his cheek. Slowly he turned his head to look at her and was certain her eyes were a mirroring his own boiling anger. Without hesitation he slapped her. To his surprise she stumbled slightly only to recover her footing. He noted her clenched fists and before he could react, she threw back her arm and laid a blow directly on his mouth. His gloved hand instantly came up to cradle his wounded flesh.

"Do not ever lay a finger on me again!" she cried. "Never again!"

"Tatiana! Erik!"

Both turned to see Madame Giry rushing towards them. Meg was right behind her and rushed to Tatiana's side.

"What is the matter with you two?" she asked as she looked at the red imprints on each of their faces.

"Madame Giry. I have no desire to remain under the same roof as this beast! I refuse!" she shouted as she stormed out of the room. A bewildered Meg rushed after her, her anxious voice echoing down the hall as she called after Tatiana.

"Erik, what is wrong with you? What happened?" she asked. She took out a small hanker shift and applied it to his bleeding lip.

"She hit me, I hit her, she hit me harder." He explained in his usual aloof manner. Madame Giry shook her head.

"You two need to stop this dangerous game." she warned.

"Game?"

"Erik. I'm no fool. You are just like the little boy who pulls on the little girl's hair to get her attention. But once you get her attention, you somehow manage to hurt her feelings, because you are at a loss of how to proceed."

"I do believe you are mistaken, Madame. I can assure you, besides strained tolerance there is no other sort of emotion between us."

"What caused all this?"

"She inquired about my past."

"And?"

"She apparently did not care for my response and reciprocated with less than favorable words. It escalated from there."

"Erik! She is just a babe."

"She is married woman who believes the world revolves her ever whim."

"Honestly, Erik it feels as though we are discussing two different people. Tatiana has never given any such airs."

"Do not be fooled by her false façade." She gave a light chuckle causing him to frown in confusion.

"You are grasping for reason's to dislike her."

"I am not." He declared somewhat defensively. "Madame if you will excuse me I do believe Nicholas will be seeking an explanation and I would rather go to him, than be summoned."

*********************************************************************************************************

"The arrogant bastard actually struck me!"

"Ana calm down!" Meg nervously urged.

"Don't you see, Meg? He hit me!" She fumed. She had initially been stunned by his slap, but her shock was quickly replaced by anger and she'd struck him with everything she had. She refused to allow another man to ever hurt her again. Never again, she'd promised herself. Never again.

"Ana, why did he hit you?" Meg inquired shyly.

"He made a rude comment, I slapped him and he slapped me in return." she said simply, attempting to calm her anger as she began to undress. Meg stared at her as though another head had sprung from her neck. "What?"

"You should not evoke his anger, Ana. He can do much harm if he wanted to."

"He is simply another man who believes he can enforce his will by physical force." She snapped angrily as attempted to remove her corset. "Meg please help me get this blasted thing off."

"He is not simply another man," Meg said behind her as she began unclasping the corset.

"Meg. What do you know about Erik?"

"I know enough not to want to make him angry. He is a musical genius, but he can also be a very dangerous man." she whispered.

"You are dancing around the question." She exhaled deeply as the corset was finally loosened.

"I'm telling you the truth."

"Why do you say he is a dangerous man?" She noted Meg's nervousness. It was apparent whatever information she was withholding was information she had been warned against sharing. "If there is just cause to be cautious of the man, should I know it?"

"Of course you should, but mama-" Meg stopped herself mid sentence.

"Please Meg tell me everything you know. I need to know what kind of man I'm dealing with." she said. She took her hands in a pleading motion. Meg bit her lip, her hesitation appearing to crumble before her very eyes. "I promise I will never mention your name should anyone ask how I came to know this information."

As if it was all the affirmation she required, Meg nodded her little blond head. She took her hand and pulled her towards the sofa so they could comfortably talk.

"He is musical genius Tatiana. This is true. Do not ever doubt it. He wrote some of the most beautiful and soulful music I have ever danced to." Meg paused briefly as she looked around the room. "He is not our family, but mama treats him as though he is."

"Why?"

"I do not know. There are certain things even I don't know about his past or how he came to be intertwined with mama's life. For years there were rumors about him, and to be honest, I was not even sure of his existence."

"I don't understand."

"He lived in the shadows of the Opera house for as long as I can remember. No one ever saw him only his letters. Incidents were dismissed as accidents, missing items as having been misplaced. Although never seen his presence was very present in the Opera house, hence the name of the Opera Ghost."

"Opera Ghost," Tatiana whispered as the name appeared to pull at her memory.

"My mother knows more about him than anyone else, but she is very loyal to him. Although I suppose to some extent he is too. I'm not sure, but a few months ago her loyalty was tested when he went mad."

"Mad?"

"He fell in love with my best friend, Christine."

"I assume this Christine did not return his affections." She said gently suddenly feeling a bit sorry for the man.

"Christine cared for him as a teacher and friend, but nothing more. Although, she claimed there never could have been anything between them, I do not think it is true. If you had seen them together on stage, there was something radiating between them. I cannot describe it but I know what I saw, and it was intense and intimate, it seemed almost shameful to watch."

"They performed together?"

"Not exactly, it is more complicated I'm afraid. Erik had remained in the shadows for years and only emerged for her. Suddenly incidents could no longer be dismissed as accidents, and requests became demands. Everything changed overnight. Christine was frightened but she would not say why. I do not know what was exchanged between them, however I know when she turned him down for another man it broke him." Tatiana continued to listen as Meg talked about Christine, Raoul, Erik, and the night he fled Paris.


	14. Reconcilement

Chapter Fourteen

Nicholas listen with great care as Erik reluctantly disclosed what had transpired earlier in the evening which had resulted with an irate daughter and an affronted guest. In truth he blamed both for not walking away from the situation. They had continued to provoke one another, each evidently lacking the basic sense to understand the lines which were being crossed. Neither caring to pause or reflect on their words. In short, both behaved like uninhibited children.

He was too old for this, he thought wearily as he ran his hand over his face in exasperation. He was fond of Erik, he genuinely was. Had it been any other person who had raised their hand to his daughter, he doubted he would have been able to remain calmly in his chair.

"Erik, may I ask your age?" he asked evenly as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I do not know my age." He said impassively.

"You don't know your age?"

"Antoinette and I believe she is a few years older than I," he shrugged, "I believe I'm in my thirties."

"Tatiana is eighteen, soon to be nineteen. Do you not think a man of your age should know better than a child?" He noted Erik's clenched jaw, and although he felt some remorse for his choice words, he knew in his heart of hearts, both Erik and Tatiana needed to be lectured. "Erik I know how difficult my daughter can be. I'm aware you have your own demons but I cannot stand here and allow you two to literally assault one another."

"It was she who started this entire mess!" Erik hissed in a childish defense.

"Regardless, you should have ignored her. Erik, you must keep your temper in check. I'm afraid all the opportunities in the world will be for nothing if you cannot learn to control your fiery temperament."

"I control my temperament well enough when I'm not provoked."

"Yes, however how long until another person provokes you? What is someone inadvertently angers you? Erik my boy, I do not believe you are as in control as you wish to believe."

Erik remained silent for some time before begrudgingly giving a slight nod.

"I will deal with my daughter, for her behavior is not without reproach. She needs to remember what name she carries and whose blood runs through her veins. On behalf of my daughter I apologize Erik, I truly do."

"I doubt she shares your sentiments."

"I cannot justify her behavior, for in truth nothing could defend her actions." He admitted freely. "I can say without question, my Tatiana has been through much. You and she have both endured your share of hardships, and while I do not pretend to place her misfortune on the same category as yours, I wish you could understand her sharp tongue and ill temper are as a result of hardships endured during her time away."

"I do not know what hardships she may have endured in her marriage; however I will concede my conduct this evening was less than savory."

"I don't know why, but I trust you Erik. I know you two do not get along, and somehow you bring out the worst in one another, but you have to try. We are leaving for Saint Petersburg next week. If you are to join us for the winter season then you must behave like a gentleman. Believe me when I say people will not notice your mask if you charm yourself into their hearts." Erik expression revealed nothing. "The decision is yours."

"I understand."

"As long as you are my guest I will insist you treat my daughter with respect and I will ask the same of her."

Madame Giry walked into the room, pausing at the door. She gave a Erik a nervous glance.

"If you excuse me, I have other business to attend." Erik politely excused himself.

"Is he to leave?" she inquired softly.

"No."

The flash of surprise that came over her features did not escape his notice. He realized then she had likely been pacing nervously nearby, dreading the outcome of his conversation with Erik.

"Thank you." She gave him a small smile. A smile which did wonders to his heart.

He stood from his chair and slowly approached her towards her, his eyes never wavering from hers. Unable to sustain his gaze she lowered her gaze to the ground. He carefully placed his hand under chin, his thumb slowly running across her porcelain cheek.

"Antoinette, you have nothing to thank me for." he whispered as he placed her hand on his face, relishing in the simple pleasure of her soft touch. Her lips parted as to speak but no words emerged. He did not require her words. He was content to simply have her there with him.

How many years had he not yearned for moments like these? Imagining what a shared a life together would have yielded, all the while loving her from a distance as they each lead separate lives along their respected spouses. Her husband may have never suspected of her true feelings, but the same could not be said about his late wife Marie. She had been all too aware of her his sentiments and she never forgave him for it.

"Je t'aime tellment," he whispered as he leaned his forehead against hers, "toujours."

**********************************************************************************************************************

She said nothing, not wanting to ruin the magical moment between them. It would seem Nicholas had the gift of making any moment between them magical. Or perhaps she was simply becoming sentimental in her old age.

His hands slowly moved to her back and brought her closer to him until her chest was pressed against his.

"Nicky..." she attempted to protest but the desires of the flesh were so difficult to deny.

"Don't deny me, Antoinette. Just one kiss, please." he whispered as his lips brushed against her earlobe. She pulled away from his heated embrace.

"I cannot allow this to happen again Nicholas."

"Do you not think we deserve a chance to be happy?"

"Do not be carried away by nostalgia."

"It is not nostalgia which moves me stand before you with my heart on my hand once more." She could feel her heart hammering against her chest. "I have loved you for over twenty years!" he continued. "Twenty years I have dreamed and prayed for a chance to one day have you at my side."

"As your mistress?" She knew not where the valor had emerged from for her to ask such a disreputable yet honest question.

"As my wife! Don't you see Antoinette? I love you too much to belittle you that way. If I cannot have you as my wife then I cannot have you at all. I have lived these past years attempting to repent for my sins, in the hopes God will forgive me and grant me my deepest desire. My most ardent wish of living what life I have yet to live with you." Nicholas passionately professed.

"It can never be Nicky."

"Why? You and I are now both free. Our daughters have become woman. They will make their lives and leave us." He took her hand in his, pressing an ardent kiss upon her knuckles. "Antoinette, no one will love you the way I love you."

She said nothing, her eyes fixed on his desperate gaze. God help her, she wanted to believe him, but how could she? There was so much history between them, good and bad. Beautiful and bitter moments; which she has replayed in her mind a million times over.

"You broke my heart Nicky," she declared honestly. "I swore never again."

She needed not to expand on her reasons. His wounded expression revealed he understood her all too well. There were some times although forgiven could never be forgotten.

"I have begged you for forgiveness time and time again," he declared poignantly. "God knows I have paid dearly for my errors." To her astonishment he knelt down before her, on both knees. "I kneel before you and ask not as that implosive youth who failed to weigh the consequences of his actions, but as a matured man who is desperate to share his life with you." He took her hands in his, his eyes glossy. "Marry me, my love."

"Nicky-," her trembling voice could not continue. Her heart was beating wildly within her chest, screaming for her to accept, yet could not. "We are from different worlds." She at last found her voice to speak reason. "You are titled nobleman while I am nothing more than an improvised ex ballerina."

"You're the queen of my heart."

"You will regret it."

"No I won't," he kissed her hands. "Never."

"You need -,"

"I need you Antoinette! I have always needed only you."

Years of solitude and sacrifice had made her a strong woman, but even the strongest of women could not resist their heart forever. Unable to restrain herself she too fell to her knees and embraced him. She kissed his tears away before taking his face in her hands and boldly kissing him with a passion that startled even her. She felt him stiffen in her arms before returning her heated kiss with gusto. Their tongues explored each other's mouth, dancing to their own unique harmony. If anyone walked in they'd be scandalized by the scene before them, but she did not care. Propriety was thrown to the winds. All that mattered was that they were finally together.

**********************************************************************************************************************

Tatiana lay restlessly on her bed silently debating whether or not she should apologize to Erik. Her anger had melted away and been replaced with shame after her discussion with Meg. Or rather after listening to Meg's sad tale. Although many things still remained unanswered, Meg had revealed enough for her to understand his need for privacy.

Reflecting over their animated encounter, she could not justify her behavior. Even if Erik had been rude, her response was unbecoming of a lady, let alone someone proclaiming to be of noble birth. She huffed in irritation. Her guilt would not allow her to sleep.

Unable to sleep her idle mind only caused her to reflect on Erik's lonely existence. Meg claimed he was deformed, hence the reason for the mask. Although how the injury came to be she could not say. Meg also disclosed much about her friend Christine. A talented young beauty who had captivated Erik, but had not returned his sentiments.

At least her Sasha had returned her affections. A small smile touched her lips as she vividly recalled the handsome Alexander Orloff. There had so much promise for a future together. "Do you ever think of me?" she whispered into the darkness. Would he find her less attractive than before? He'd always called her beautiful, but she had not felt beautiful in years. If she was laying in the darkness pinning for her lost love, who was to say Erik was not doing the same? Her guilt continued to nag.

Exasperated she sat up in bed. It was not his fault for what he was. Like her, he had been molded over years of abuse, neglect, and heartache. If she was cold and withdrawn after two years, how could she think less of man who had endured so much more and for many years?

She rolled off her bed, and reached to light the candle by her bed. It was obvious she would not be able to rest until she had relieved her conscious of its burden. Quickly putting her robe and slippers on, she walked to where she had blocked off the adjoining room. Her father had not altered the room arrangements since her arrival. Her only resolution at the time had been to place her desk against the door. Not that she expected any impropriety from him; it was simply a need to be in control of her surroundings.

She knew it was highly improper for her to go into a man's bedroom, however she needed to apologize. Besides it was not as if he would be shocked by her behavior, she had already muddled any favorable impression he could have possibly have had of her. Resolving her mind she began to push the desk away from the door. Once the task was completed she inhaled deeply as she stood before the door.

"I've crossed this door countless time before," she mumbled to herself. "Just never to speak with a man I've offended and struck." Gathering her wits and armed with determination she knocked on the door.

**********************************************************************************************************************

Erik winced slightly as he ran his finger from his lips to his jaw.

"The woman is a formidable force to be reckoned with," he mumbled with some bemusement.

His thoughts turned to his earlier little conversation with Madame Giry. She had labeled them children, as had Nicholas in his own way, but children none the less. He found the compassion insulting, yet begrudgingly accepted his behavior was lacking at times.

It had been especially difficult to stand before Nicholas as he was scolded. He found he could hardly reproach Nicholas for his advice or lectures. His behavior had warned both. In truth, he found himself rather fond of older man. The man had gone beyond providing a means of escape; he had provided him the means to establish a new life.

Nicholas had advised he would win the hearts of society, if he could refrain from losing his temperament. The question was, could he? 'You can feign manners but a pauper in fine clothes is still a pauper.' Tatiana's words had stung because they were laced with truth. He was nothing more than an illusion. Despite his best attempts to adapt the behavior of a gentleman, in truth his primitive nature would always prevail.

Erik walked over to the large gilded mirror on the wall and stared at his reflection. His hand reached up to touch the white porcelain mask that tormented him so. He detested the mask, yet loathed what lay beneath it even more. His hand slowly came, his fingers hovering over the mask but frozen at the sound of a knock.

His features morphed into a suspicious frown as he turned to look at his bedroom door. For a moment, he believed perhaps one of the servants had accidently knocked on his door. Just as he opened his mouth to dismiss them, a louder knock came from across the room. He blinked in confusion as he realized the knock was indeed coming from the door which adjoined his room and Tatiana's.

"May I come in?" she called out softly.

He frantically looked around for his robe. He was hardly decent to receive anyone let alone a woman. He hurried into his robe, clumsily fumbling as he attempted to securely close his robe around his waist. He turned to inspect himself in the mirror, ensuring he was at least modestly presentable. Ignoring the foreign sensations which had suddenly appeared, he walked towards the door he had attempted to ignore over the last several weeks.

"Good evening." she said shyly. "May I come in?" She stood before him also in a robe, her hair pulled back into a simple braid that lay casually over her shoulder.

"Do you really think it proper for you to do so?" He raised his eye brow in mock amusement.

"No, but I genuinely do not care." He smiled lightly at her boldness before moving aside and motioning her to come it.

"What can I help you with tonight Madame Alexandrova."

"I'm here to apologize for my behavior this afternoon."

"There is no need to apologize. Your father already did." He remarked dryly.

"He was not the one with the ghastly behavior this afternoon," she appeared uncharacteristically perturbed. "My behavior was unbecoming of a lady-" Her words trailed off as her gaze appeared to focus on his face. He frowned as her hand moved to touch his bruised lip. He recoiled from her touch, causing an unfamiliar tinge of red to spread across her features. "I'm sorry." She mumbled.

"Tell me are you here out of guilt or on orders of your father?" He inquired wryly.

"I have yet to speak with my father."

"So it's guilt." He could not mask the mirth in his voice. "Your consciousness can be laid to rest. You may keep your apology; all I ask is that you respect my privacy."

"I was trying to share something with you, and I thought-."

"You believed because you had shared a few tidbits of information about your family that I would suddenly be overcome with a need to discuss my own?" he snapped angrily as he moved away from her.

"No, it wasn't like that. I was simply attempting to understand you better."

"There is not much to understand," he cautiously warned, "or know."

"Forgive me, I believe I have made yet another lapse in judgment this evening." She declared before turning to leave. Her steps came to a stop when she stood in the doorway between the rooms. He watched as she hovered in the doorway with her back turned to him. For a moment, he believed she would turn to look at him and ignite yet another disagreement between them.

"Is there anything else I can assist you with tonight, Madame?" he could not resist the jab.

"I was sixteen when I was forced to marry Vladimir," she said softly. "I have lost much because of him: my happiness, my innocence, and my family. I may not have suffered what you been force to endure in life, but I do believe I have suffered enough to understand anger and loneliness when I see tt." she declared sadly before closing the door.

**********************************************************************************************************************

God, he must think me a fool! She cursed herself over and over again as she undid her robe and went to her bed.

'At least I apologized...what little good it did me.' She mumbled to herself.

She climbed into bed and laid her face against her pillow thinking of how differently things could have been if only she married Sasha...her Sasha. She felt her eyes moisten as she thought o the life that was and wasn't. She was crying for Sasha, not Vladimir, her tears were permissible. She allowed herself to silently weep in the privacy and darkness of her room. After several minutes she noted her pillow had become damp against her face. Sighing in frustration she reached for the second pillow on her bed and flung the dampen pillow away.

"You almost hit me with that thing." A familiar amused voice came from the darkness.

She instantly brought the covers up to her chin. "What are you doing here!" she hissed in a voice just above a whisper.

"You still owe me a lesson for evening."

"Now?"

"Why not?"

"I'm in bed."

"Then get out of bed."

"I'm not going to get out of bed simply because you suddenly decided you needed to have a lesson in the middle of the night."

"Well you got me out of bed with your need to clear your conscious." He offered innocently.

Manipulative bastard, she thought with some amusement. Despite not being able to see his features, she could practically feel his mocking gaze upon her.

"Fine!" She reached for her nightstand, fumbling a little as she struggled to find a candle to light. After a few long moments, light finally flickered and illuminated the room. She jumped back in surprise, almost dropping the candle holder when she saw Erik was sitting besides her in a chair he had apparently moved without making the most minimal of sound. "How did you get there?"

"I walked over and sat down." She rolled her eyes.

"In the dark?"

"Instinct." He offered casually, as he lifted his hand to reveal her robe in his grasp.

"You are terrible." She shook her head as she took the robe from his hand.

"My dear dyevushka, you have no idea." He grinned mischievously.

She couldn't help the smile that touched her own lips, perhaps there was hope after all.


	15. Qualms

Chapter Fifteen

Meg silently observed as their luggage was loaded onto the train. She had been reluctant leave their little paradise because that was what this place had become to her, paradise. The climate and natural beauty was not something she was likely to ever forget. Tatiana insisted they would travel to Saint Petersburg for the winter and return in the summer. She wanted to believe they would be back in the summer, however, it seemed unlikely.

Her mother persistently claimed they could not remain as guests forever, yet every time she would declare their departure something changed her mind, or rather someone.

She was not so much of a fool that she did not see the romantic relationship between her mother and Monsieur Alexandrov. She had seen many telling glances between them and despite her mother refusing to discuss the subject; Meg knew her mother was in love.

At first the idea of her mother, the strict and disciplined Madame Giry, in love had seemed incomprehensible. Yet it was true, the truth was before her very eyes. Her mother's demeanor had changed. She appeared youthful, not so stern, and even smiled regularly when she was in the presence of the older Prince.

It seemed everyone knew about their little romance but discreetly turned a blind eye.

She could not begrudge her mother for her little romance. It was simply a difficult thing to accept. There were more questions than answers and despite her best to discover more, she was still very much in the dark as to the circumstances surrounding the origin of their romance.

Her thoughts were forgotten as she noticed everyone approaching the train. Her mother walked towards her and took her arm. Always so protective... she thought with a hint of resentment. Nicholas and Erik walked alongside Tatiana who looked stunning as usual. She noted several men cast approving glances at her as she walked past them. Even casually dressed she managed to attract the admiration of everyone around her.

She could not understand how such a beautiful girl with the world at her feet, could always appear so sad. Tatiana had the most striking aqua colored eyes she had ever seen on any person, man or woman. The sadness reflected in them only intensified their beauty, in her opinion. Her coloring was also unusually attractive. Rather than posses the pale skin so sought after by aristocrats, her skin had a lovely olive tone which contrasted beautifully with her dark hair. She could not deny she was very envious of her, especially of her height. Tatiana's long legs would have been ideal for dancing. Looking down at her short stature she shrugged. She had done well enough with what the lord gave her.

Erik gave a slight nod in acknowledgement as he walked passed her, which she politely returned. It was strange to think of the man before her as simply Erik. His previous identity was very present in her mind. So much so she doubted she would ever feel genuinely comfortable around him. Perhaps sensing her apprehension he kept a respectable distance, and she was shamefully thankful for it.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************

Erik pretended to read the book on his lap as he discreetly watched Meg take a seat beside Tatiana. There was rarely a time when those two were not together, very much like their parents. His gaze traveled to where Madame Giry and Nicholas were sitting. They were casually conversing in a manner that at glance appeared insignificant. Unless one was to note how Nicholas gazed at his companion as though all the wonders of the world could be discovered in her features.

Had he possessed the same hopeless expression when gazing upon Christine? He frowned at the thought. How easily men lost themselves when besotted with a pretty face. Inadvertently his gaze returned to Tatiana.

Erik watched out of the corner of his eye as Tatiana continued to look out her window. She had been unusually silent during their journey. He suspected the cause for her bothered expression. Her desire for a divorce was being met with unyielding results. Her estranged husband not surprisingly adamantly refused.

'He will fight to keep her,' Nicholas had bemoaned during one of their discussions over the matter. He could not pretend to blame the absent Count. He glanced again at her silent silhouette. She was very wealthy and unquestionably beautiful. Yet beyond her external loveliness lay her unique personality. It was not difficult to fall under charm; the difficulty lay in discovering the personality under the layers of armor she stubbornly refused to shed.

Despite his limited experience with woman, he found her forwardness somewhat disquieting yet alluring all the same. Granted, at first he had been taken aback by her candid nature. What he had first mistaken as vulgar he now accepted as component of her diverse personality.

He wondered if Saint Petersburg society would prove to be just as distinct. He could not deny his apprehension at the idea of being immersed in society. He struggled interacting with persons on an individual basis; he could foresee his attempts in open social event becoming a humiliating disaster. His reservations had been brushed aside by Nicholas's insistence. In order to establish a future in the art world, he had to befriend influential figures. Even he understood the importance of befriending patrons.

Nicholas could only do so much; he had to make certain alliances were cemented in order to secure a position within the art world. His future would depend on those connections. Until he could obtain these connections he would have to refrain from making long term plans. Not that he minded continuing with his current living arrangements, he thought as he continued observing his traveling companions.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Tatiana slowly braided her long silky hair. She had much on her mind, all pertaining to what would occur when they arrived in Saint Petersburg. They were to meet with more legal advisers and the Holy Synod to plead her petition. Her father had explained the only hope for an annulment was for her to prove the marriage was never consummated and reveal the unsavory intimate details she'd rather never discuss with anyone. Unfortunately with Vladimir unwavering stance on the issue of their divorce, she may have no alternative.

Vladimir had sent her a short letter, laced with sarcasm. 'I hope you are enjoying your little adventure. I promise to join you soon and together we shall return home.' Not exactly a threat, unless you read between the lines. He only acknowledged he would be coming for her. The fact that he had stayed away this long was not lost on her. She could speculate as to the reasons for hours on end, yet in the end she would likely only succeed in tormenting herself.

She had sworn she would never return to his side, and it was a vow she intended to maintain.

Having completed braiding her hair she stood from her seat and removed her robe. It had been a long day, and while the journey was being conducted in a comfortable and luxurious manner, she longed for the fresh air and walks along the coast.

She looked at Meg who lay in her bed reading a book in Russian. To her great relief Meg had taken a more serious attitude in attempting to learn the language.

"Tatiana?"

"Yes?" She asked as she climbed into her own bed.

"Do you know what is going on with my mother and your father?"

"Yes." She smiled.

"Can you please explain it to me?"

"They are merely picking up where they left off years ago." Meg closed her eyes and bit her lip before setting the book aside.

"Do you know their full history?"

"I know more than I should, but unlikely all that there is to know about their relationship." She answered frankly.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No." Meg frowned in her usual childlike manner.

"Do you not think this is something you should be inquiring with your mother?"

"She avoids this conversation."

"She may not be ready to discuss it, but perhaps you should understand, it may be difficult for her to discuss matters of the heart with anyone especially her daughter."

"Your father seems to have had no such reservations."

"My father and I are more forward with one another than most. There were little secrets between us. You are asking me to disclose information he confided to me and I cannot disclose what is not mine to disclose, can you understand?"

"Not exactly," she sunk into the covers, "but I suppose I can't blame you for remaining loyal to your father."

"Thank you, Meg." She turned off the light beside her bed and pulled the covers over herself as she attempted to become comfortable for the evening.

"Tatiana?"

"Yes?" she said as she stretched her legs and arms.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want."

"Just ask."

"Last night I told you who my first kiss was, but you never told me who's yours." She sighed and decided it was only fair she shared intimate memories as Meg had done the previous night.

"I was fifteen, and he was twenty-four." She began remembering the details vividly. "He gave me a simple flower as it was all he could afford at that time," she could still see his smiling eyes as he presented her the humble gift. "As I took the flower from his hand he leaned in and kissed me gently before I had time to react."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"I think I was too surprised and embarrassed at the time, but reflecting on the moment, yes I did enjoy it."

"Is this the same person you wanted to marry?"

"Yes." she answered sadly. "More than anything else in the world."

"You never talk about him, yet I know you still think about him."

"He was a part of my life that is very dear to me. I prefer to keep such memories inside and to myself." She sighed as a familiar twinge formed in her heart. "Some of the most beautiful moments in your life are meant for no one but yourself."

"But it's nice to share some of those moments. Don't you think?"

"Perhaps," she conceded.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Two weeks before my marriage."

"Did you care for him?"

"I loved him."

"How do you know if you only cared for him or if you were in love with him?"

"When you love, you love. Your heart will tell you."

"Were you in love?"

"Desperately," she breathed with a profoundness that surprised even her. She had genuinely believed her heart had resigned itself to its solitary fate.

"Is he the reason why you want to get a divorce?"

"No."

"Then why-."

"There are circumstances aside from the desire to be with another person which can motivate a person to seek separation from their spouse."

"I've never met a divorcee."

"Neither have I." She confessed.

"If it will make you happy, then I do hope you are granted your divorce."

"Thank you Meg."

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"You're happy."

Antoinette looked up from her embroidery to meet Erik amused gaze.

"Is that a question?"

"An observation," he remarked casually as he sat across the small table.

"I have no reason to be unhappy." She declared in a vain attempt to detour his light probing.

"Don't play coy with me Antoinette." He scolded. "I'm hardly reprimanding you for your new found happiness."

"Your tone says differently." She raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge.

"Light teasing is hardly reprimanding." He smiled lightly. "Nicholas is a good man; I do not believe you could have found a better partner. I'm genuinely happy for you."

"You are speaking as though I'm marrying the man." She continued her embroidering.

"Are you not?" The question took her by surprise she accidently pricked her finger. She hissed in pain as she brought up the wound to her lips.

"Here," Erik gently handed her his hanker shift. "I did not intend to startle you."

"Thank you." She applied pressure to her finger. "I must appear foolish."

"Hardly." He remarked with light mirth reflected in his eyes. "My amusement is not because of the emotions you are experiencing but the resulting behavior because of said emotions. You act as though there is shame to be found in love."

"It is hardly decent for a woman of my age to be indulging in such things." She whispered. "I know there is no shame in love, but look at me Erik." She shrugged lightly. "I'm old enough to be a grandmother."

"You are still young Antoinette."

"It is difficult to call oneself young when their child is nearly fully grown."

"Your daughter is fully grown," She raised her eyebrow, "perhaps slightly immature." He conceded.

"Meg's immature nature is partially my fault for sheltering her, however her disposition towards life has always been far too optimistic and trusting."

"You cannot shelter her forever." Erik sighed. "There are certain lessons we must endure, otherwise how are we to learn?"

"Speaking from experience?"

"Partially."

"You have learned more than your share of hard lessons." She reflected as he looked out the window. "Although, I do not pretend the understand the ways of God, perhaps this was his way of guiding you to self reflection-"

Erik laughed derisively.

"Honestly Erik is it so difficult to have a little faith."

"Just because others believe in a invisible being," Erik declared with a hint of anger in his gaze, "does not mean I am to be equally gullible."

"It is not foolish to believe in a higher power."

"Ah, yes." He leaned back into his chair. "A higher power who despite nearly always ignoring everyone's plights has somehow earned their unfaltering reverence." he mocked, "Does sound a little foolish does it not?"

"Faith is sacred to many, Erik." She sighed in exasperation. Despite her attempts to introduce him to faith, he had balked at her efforts. One more than one occasion she had wondered if perhaps a little faith would have benefitted him, especially during his darker moments.

"Let us cease this useless conversation."

"Always so eloquent."

He merely smiled.

"Very well, I've indulged you," she gave him a knowing glance, "I have noticed you spending a significant amount of time with Tatiana lately." His eyes narrowed and she knew she had struck a nerve.

"Ask your question already," he glared, "I'm well aware of that tone of yours."

"I was merely stating an observation," she replied innocently.

"Doubtful."

"Oh, I'm very pleased to see you two getting along."

"We have an understanding." She frowned at his cryptic words. "You can rest whatever dubious thoughts are formulating in your head."

"You are young and it is only natural to find a beautiful young woman appealing-."

"She is young, and she is beautiful however do not mistake my intentions."

"Enlighten me then, what are your intentions?"

"To live another day and attempt to move forward from the disaster that is my past."

"Erik-."

"I don't want nor need your pity. You asked a question and I answered truthfully. I'm sure you would like to imagine a more entertaining scenario in your mind where I somehow fall under the charms of a woman again and live out my reminder of my life in bliss."He gave a low laugh. "I do hate to shatter your hopeful illusions; however, I have no such inclination as far as Tatiana is concern. I do hope you accept my answer and cease to bring up this matter again."

"I did not mean to insult you."

"She is a lady; to even contemplate such ideas is more insulting to her than me." She bowed her head as Erik scolded her. She could not fault him, his words held merit.

"Forgive me Erik. You are right; I do not know what has gotten into me lately. I suppose a small part of me, simply hoped you had found someone to help you forget Christine."

"I'll never forget her. All I had, I gave to her."

"We are able to love more than once in our lives." She urged gently, aware she was walking on a very thin and volatile line.

"Perhaps," he mused sadly, "but even if I could find it in me to love another, it would likely yield the same results before."

"Don't say that Erik."

"I merely speak the truth. Look at me Antoinette. I've resolved myself to the fact I'll likely live out my existence alone, and oddly enough, I'm content."

"You will one day find someone, and believe me when I tell you, it will be when you least expect it."


	16. Unease

Chapter Sixteen

Tatiana nervously adjusted her gloves as the last of her luggage was removed from her room. She waited for the servants to leave before turning to inspect her reflection one more time. Her attire had until then consisted of simplistic blouses and skirts, opting against any clothing which would underline her social position. Having returned to the city of birth, she had been inclined to make a triumphed return in her best. She had chosen one a dark green traveling dress. A simple design, but one tailored to flatter her figure. She had opted for her pearl earrings, a vanity she had also previously neglected. Her hat was free of flowers or feathers, instead a practical design which provided a small veil to shield her face from the sunlight.

"You seem uncharacteristically nervous," a dangerously low voice said beside her.

"Good morning, Erik." She said as her lips quirked slightly.

"Good morning Tatiana." His eyes danced mischievously.

"I'm surprised you have not joined the others on the platform."

"I had some minor alterations to make to my wardrobe." She observed he was wearing a scarf which wrapped around his face to conceal his mask.

"You should not have to conceal your mask."

"I must."

She felt a twinge in her heart at his words. The idea of having to conceal one's face for fear of ridicule was distressing. Yet as distressed as she was at the idea, he appeared resolved to the fact.

"You're nicely dressed." She noted his perfectly tailored black cloak which concealed most of his immaculate dark suit. She could never fault his sense style, for in truth he was one of the best dressed men she had ever met. And she had met men of royal caliber.

"You think?" he gave her a knowing smirk.

"It is only my humble opinion." She remarked coyly. "Since you are dressed as a gentleman are you going to play the part too and kindly escort me off this train?"

His only response was to offer his arm as his eyes uncharacteristically danced with glee.

She linked her arm with his as she allowed him to lead them off the train onto the platform. Even as she slowly stepped onto the platform, her heart began to swell with emotion. The station was crowded as it tended to be in the mornings, yet even the crowd did not detour her feelings of nostalgia.

"Ah, we were wondering what was taking you two so long." Her father teased as he approached them with Meg and Madame Giry on both arms. "I was about to send a search party after you."

"A woman must always dress her best when in town, father."

"Is it always this busy?" Meg inquired as she looked around them with a look of wonder in her wide blue eyes.

"We are simply fortunate we are not here in the evening, it would be much more crowded." Her father began to lead them away from the platform.

She noted Erik felt tense, almost rigid under touch. Her fingers untangled slightly from his forearm wondering if perhaps in her excitement she had squeezed his arm too tightly.

"There are two carriages waiting for us." Her father said casually. "Antoinette, Erik and I will ride in the first carriage while you and Meg ride in second one."

She nodded, not particularly interested in the arrangements but rather in Erik's sudden change in attitude.

"Are you alright?" She inquired softly.

"Yes." His voice appeared strained, the playfulness from earlier apparently forgotten. She glanced around them and noticed several people were glancing at them. Frowning at the sight, she realized how uncomfortable he had to be under the scrutiny.

"I must ensure our luggage has been collected," her father said, "Excuse me."

They watched as her father walked to one of the carriages. She released Erik's arm and stepped away from him as she discreetly took in their surroundings.

"Who on earth is that man?" someone whispered.

"Why would be cover his face unless he was attempting to hide something?" another hissed.

She noted Meg appeared uncomfortable and even a bit of red across her cheeks. Madame Giry on the other hand stood proudly beside Erik and not for the first time, she felt a sense of pride for the woman.

"Everything is arranged, shall we?" Her father motioned for Erik and Madame Giry to follow him. Meg quickly took her hand, urging her to the second carriage.

"You ride with Madame Giry and Meg, and I will ride with Monsieur Giry."

"Oh?" Her father frowned in obvious confusion.

"I shall see you home soon." She smiled at her father as she leaned in to kiss his cheek and whispered. "I want to teach these gawking fools they have nothing to fear from him."

Her father smiled and nodded.

"I fear you will be forced to endure my tedious company a bit longer." She said without reservation as she took Erik's arm again. Noting the shocked glances she was receiving from various persons around them.

"I suppose I will have to learn to make do with the burden." He gave her a devastating smile; one that even reached his usually reserved gaze. His hand took hers and brought it up to place an innocent kiss against her gloved fingers and for some unexplained reason, she could have sworn she felt a flutter in her stomach.

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The moment they had stepped out of the train he had felt several eyes focus on him. He had expected it, and to some degree even welcomed it. It was a just another bane in a long list of banes which had hindered his existence. He had also noticed many gentlemen, young and old giving lingering appreciative glances to Tatiana. Some had apparently forgotten their manners as they openly leered.

Their lack of respect had disconcerted him. Tatiana had appeared oblivious to it all as her gaze appeared far and distant. He could speculate as to what was crossing her mind, but then, he was never good at understanding a woman's mind. His concern had distracted him from the not so subtle whispers around him. He feigned indifference even if inwardly he was flinching at every word.

When Tatiana had momentarily stepped away from he felt somewhat jilted before concluding she was perhaps mortified by the attention they were garnering. Just as quickly she declared rather louder than was necessary, she would be riding with him instead of Meg.

He found her deed and words so utterly cheeky, he could not help but raise her delicate hand and place a kiss upon it in gratitude. The gesture did not go unnoticed for he caught sight of many staggered faces around them as he helped her into the waiting carriage.

"The city has not changed." He heard her whisper.

"It has been years since you've been in Saint Petersburg."

"It is the land of my birth," she said with pride, "one never forgets their land of their birth. It is embedded in our blood."

"I wouldn't know."

"Forgive me; it was not my intention to-."

"I know it was not, I merely stating a fact." He smirked. "I envy your ability to identify with the place of your birth so ardently."

"Everyone has a place they hold dear to their heart."

"That is true." He conceded as he thought of his former home.

Suddenly a large cry was heard from outside the carriage, and almost instantly they came to such an abrupt stop Tatiana was literally flung forward. He attempted to catch her but a second jolt caused him to fall off his own seat. They both landed ungraciously on the floor.

For a moment neither said a word as they stared at one another. He realized he had instantly wrapped his arms around her when they were thrown off their seats. He had taken the brunt of the impact.

"What on earth?" she cried as she attempted to raise herself off his person. He felt her leg brush against his, and then the other. Suddenly he was all too aware of her form pressed against his. He felt the full weight of her ample bosom against his chest before she was able to successfully lift herself. He realized to his utter mortification his body had suffered a reaction to her close proximity.

"Are you alright?" She extended her hand.

"I'm fine, thank you." He groaned as he attempted to cover his embarrassing state with his cloak.

"Countess!" a voice cried out from outside before the door was opened. "Forgive me! The boy came out of nowhere!"

"All is well," Tatiana reassured the driver as she took her seat. "Please let us continue." She turned to him with a look of concern. "Are you sure you are alright? You look a bit tense."

"I'll be fine," he hissed as he attempted to adjust himself comfortably. "Just slightly stiff from the fall."

"Shall I send for the doctor when we arrive?"

"Hardly necessary."

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

He wondered if perhaps God did indeed exist, and if so, if he was enjoying his ridiculous predicament.

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Nicholas smiled as Antoinette cautiously stepped into his home. How many years had he not imagine her crossing the threshold of his home on his arm? It had seemed such a futile dream for a time before morphing into a shattered illusion of what could never be. Now there they were, standing side by side with her on his arm, and his once impossible dream now within his grasp.

"This is your home?"

"Yes." It could be your home too; he wanted to say but was conscious enough to refrain from embarrassing her in front of her daughter.

"It's beautiful."

"I thought only royalty could posses such palaces." Meg looked up at the elaborately decorated ceiling and smiled. "It's amazing!"

"I'm glad my home meets your approval," Nicholas teased as he urged Antoinette forward.

"It is lovely," she mumbled as she turned to look at him, "far lovelier than you described in your letters."

"I may have made some adjustments over the years."

He was not fibbing. For in truth he had ordered renovations and a few rooms were completely redesigned to suit his taste and needs. It would seem every generation saw fit to make their own adjustments to the property they inherited. He was no different, and doubted Tatiana would one day not be inclined to make her own changes.

"Shall I give you a tour or would you prefer to see your room's first?"

"A tour would lovely." Meg answered with radiant smile, he could not help but recall her mother at a similar age.

"Then please allow me to escort you and your lovely mother around my humble home." He offered his arm which was readily accepted by Meg as her mother looked on in mocked annoyance. Her smile soon mirrored her daughters as he happily escorted mother and daughter up the stairs.

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Tatiana stood motionless in her room. It was all just as she had left it.

Unlike her room in the Crimea, this room had not been packed away. It had been taken care of, almost as if she had never left. Her desk contained the same Faberge frames she had neglected to take with her. Her bedding remained the same, the arrangement of her furniture, and even her favorite scent remained.

She slowly walked towards her desk where her personalized stationery paper was. Her gloved fingers caressed her monogram.

"Where did you go." She whispered as she looked at the silver frame contacting a photograph of her and her father. Her father sat proudly on a chair, as she stood behind him looking towards the photographer, capturing a expression which bordered between ethereal and melancholy. A foreboding of what was to come, perhaps.

Everything felt as familiar as it did foreign. Another reminder of a life she had felt distinctly alienated from.

"Countess, would you like me to unpack your belongings?"

Countess…how she hated the title, she thought bitterly. Even in the infancy of her marriage, she had recoiled from the title. She had always known it would be a failure, she simply did not understand how disastrous of a failure it would be.

"Please have my things put away accordingly." She turned to the young girl. "Once my belongings are in their place you may leave."

"Yes Countess."

She looked out the window of her bedroom. The scenery was not as ethereal as in the Crimea yet it was no less beautiful to her. She was at last home.

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Erik had withdrawn to his bedroom soon after their arrival. He had quickly dismissed the servant with the pretense of fatigue and asked not to be disturbed. In reality he had been desperate for solace since the unfortunate and humiliating incident in the carriage.

Although the incident had been a complete accident, aside from Christine, no other woman had ever been in such close physical contact with him. His body had betrayed all the rules of reason and decency and reacted to her closeness, much to his utter mortification. Perturbed by the unsettling sensations and irrigated by his lack of control, he had endured the journey to the mansion in a particularly painful aroused state.

He was only a man after all; he could not deny his body had certain primal needs. Needs he have believed he had mastered some time ago. He frowned in irritation as he began to undress.

He could reason it was natural to react in such a manner when an attractive woman was pressed again him, yet the shame remained. Her warmth had been intoxicating as her scent. Nor would he soon forget how divine her figure has felt -. He swore under his breath as he practically tore his shirt off.

He had not intended to project such lascivious sentiments, especially towards Tatiana. She had endured enough leering at the station; she deserved to be treated with respect, especially by those within her current circle. For better or for worse, he was part of that circle. Surprisingly against logic or reason, he was inexplicably drawn to Tatiana.

They engaged in long fascinating conversations about books, music and art, at times of nothing of importance. Yet he never tired of their meetings. Nicholas had provided him with intellectual conversations which he had yearned for, yet since the arrival of Antoinette the conversations had been few and far between. He did not begrudge the man, if anything he wished for the two to resolve their impasse. Yet who was he to provide advice in the matters of the heart?

He walked into bathroom and was relieved to find his bath drawn as he had requested. He was reduced to calming his depraved ardor like an adolescent. Removing his remaining garments he stepped into the tub.

"Merde," His jaw clenched as his flesh came in contact with the cold water. For the second time that day, he felt convinced a certain deity was laughing at him.


	17. Ghosts

Chapter Seventeen

Meg could hardly contain the smile that graced her features. She had known the family was wealthy, had seen how easily Nicholas spent without even asking for a price when making purchases. The property in the Crimea had been stunning, yet this house was a palace in all but name. According to Tatiana, only royalty could deem their homes palaces where as nobility could only call their homes mansions. A pettiness as far as Meg was concerned, for this was very much a palace.

Nicholas had been gracious enough to take them on a tour. How her heart had swelled with a nostalgic longing when she entered the ballroom. The enormous room had gorgeous gold gilded walls and mirrors which reminded her so very much of her days in the opera house. The ceiling was painted with various romanticized images of a cherubs and lovers.

When Nicholas had casually mentioned the possibility of having a ball during the season, she had selfishly wished with all her little heart to be present for what promised to be a glorious event. Her mother had given her a cautionary glance which she had purposely ignored.

She glanced around the elegant oak dining room. The walls were lined with fine oak; the panels had detailed carvings which echoed the designs on the ceiling. Despite the masculine décor, she had to admit, the overall effect was charming and welcoming.

A plate was placed before her and she gave a friendly smile to the servant. She did not feel confident enough to speak to the servants. It was evident Nicholas enjoyed a good affinity with them, especially the older servants who were genuinely happy when Tatiana entered the dining room.

She had not failed to notice it was not just the servants who had appeared happy at Tatiana's appearance. Erik had stood up to pull a chair out for Tatiana, a gentlemanly gesture which would ordinarily had gone unnoticed had it not been for the fact, he had never done it before for anyone. Not herself, her mother or Tatiana in all the weeks they had been co existing together. Granted she was probably giving it more importance than it was necessary but then she had also noticed he would always look up when she spoke.

Was it possible? Her brows came together in a frown before quickly disappearing. Highly unlikely, she thought. He was likely paying her the courtesy's due to her own generous tendencies towards him. Would he extend the same courtesies to her? For some reason her weariness towards him, was very present. Even when logic dictated to her he was unlikely to harm her, in her mind he remained the very figure which had tormented the staff of the Opera house. Although never directly harmed by him, she had seen enough for him to cement his place in her mind as someone to be fearful of.

Perhaps with time she her chilly disposition towards him would thaw, but until then she felt it best to remain respectably and politely distanced.

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"You're writing is improving." His eyebrow lifted in mild amusement.

"Was there any doubt to my ability to master the Cyrillic script?"

"I said you had improved, not that you had mastered it," she corrected, "tsk-tsk Monsieur, you being rather presumptuous."

"I'm merely stating the inevitable." He shrugged.

After dinner he had been invited to the sitting room attached to her bedroom. Apparently, it was meant for her to entertain guests in her privacy of her chambers. Although he had seen her private chambers, if the décor of the salon was any indication, they were likely exquisitely feminine and refined. The cream colored wall paper matched the upholstery on the furniture. The subtle material was highlighted and contrasted beautifully with the gilded mirrors and moulded décor on the walls. There were scattered plants and priceless porcelain adored with fresh flowers. The marble fireplace had been lit, creating a warm and welcoming environment. The room appeared to be a fair representation of its mistress, except he had noticed the monogram over the fireplace was not Tatiana's.

"Are your rooms to your liking?" she inquired as she handed him his penmanship back.

"They are sufficient." He lied, they were far more luxurious than he deserved. "The monogram over the fireplace, who does it belong to?"

"My grandmother," she motioned to painting hanging on the wall, "Princess Tatiana Dmitrievna, my father's mother."

"Nicholas appears to have several portraits of her."

"He was close to her."

"You were as well." It was not a question; he had detected the affection and pride in her voice when she had named her.

"I was." She looked at the portrait. "She was wonderful."

"These were her rooms?"

"They were." She glanced around the room. "Father and I made some minor modifications to it a few years ago, but to be honest aside from the fabric on the walls and furniture, it has remained largely the same as it was in my childhood."

"She must have been a woman of remarkable taste."

He recalled Nicholas in a rare moment of sadness, lamenting Tatiana had been the only one of his children to survive infancy. Nicholas had buried four children, a wife, and perhaps his family name if Tatiana died without having a child. It was a heavy burden on the man. A burden he usually did not discuss but one that emerged when they had discussed the difficulty of Tatiana's divorce.

"You would have liked her. She was beautiful, forward but gracious to a fault."

"Reminds me of her granddaughter." Tatiana smiled causing a familiar stir which he quickly dismissed.

"Shall we call it a night?"

"I suppose if you have to sleep sometimes." She laughed. "Same time tomorrow?"

He nodded realizing with some puzzlement how he was already looking forward to the following evening.

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"Even in death, you are still an imposing presence." Antoinette whispered as she stood before the large portrait.

Unable to sleep she had departed the confines of her bedroom to walk the halls. She had come upon the drawing room and was instantly drawn to the portrait. It was not an unknown portrait, as she had previous seen a copy in Nicholas's study. Nicholas adored his mother, and she him. It was little wonder she had so much influence over his life as well as those who entered it.

A proud and strong woman who deserved the title she carried, she thought with some admiration. Despite their differences she never held any ill will towards the elderly princess. She had understood her actions then as young and naïve as she may have been. You were looking out for your family, she thought somewhat somberly. Who would not have the done the same thing in similar situations?

She licked her lips as she glanced around the room. She felt foolish, yet it was something she needed to do.

"I don't know if you can hear me," she began in a low voice, "probably not." She inhaled deeply. "Your granddaughter is lovely. You should be proud of the woman you helped raise. I do not know if you would have approved of the friendship that has developed between my daughter and her, but they are good girls. "

"When I crossed the threshold of this house, I thought of you. I could not help but wonder what you would have said of my presence in your home. I would like to believe you would have been amiable, but perhaps it is wishful thinking on my part? I deserved your scorn, perhaps not for the reasons you believe, but I did.

I say this because I need to say what always remained unsaid between us. As his mother, I respected you. I always respected you, and I hope you understood I never meant any disrespect or harm. As a woman, your words hurt me when we spoke last spoke. Not because they were cruel but because they were true."

She closed her eyes briefly recalling the scene which remained so vividly engraved in her memory. The older Princess had made an impression to last a lifetime. So much so, even thought she was merely standing before a portrait of a deceased woman, she felt the nervousness all too keenly.

"It was not meant to be then, but would you have accepted me now? I don't think you would. I do not blame you. I know my place, Nicholas is a dreamer. You said so yourself. Yet, I selfishly wish to be with him, would it be wrong if for a moment I allowed myself to be a dreamer as well?"

Silence.

She wasn't really expecting a response. In her own way was she was resolving some unsaid things between herself and the woman who altered her life. However sentimental and deluded it may appear to some, it was a closure she had sought for nearly two decades.

She turned and saw another portrait, not as prominent but no less regal. Another ghost, she thought somberly.

"I'm sure you are rolling over in your grave." She said a hint of amusement. Whatever respect she owed to Nicholas's mother did not extend to his late wife. Resentment, anger, and old fashioned envy were deeply cemented within her when it came to Marie. "I'm sure you echoed my sentiments tenfold."

"You won, he was yours, you birthed his children, but it never mattered to you." She sighed as her heart contracted painfully. "You could not be happy, because you did not wish to be happy." She had read enough of Nicholas's letters to understand his troubled relationship with Marie. "He never spoke ill of you. Not once. Always placing the blame upon himself, he was full of guilt, and still is." She licked her lips as she stared at the sad expression captured in the portrait. The artist masterfully captured her sorrowful look.

"I wronged you, without meaning to, I wronged you and I am sorry for the circumstances but I cannot ever ask for forgiveness for feeling what I do." And there was her truth. The burden of her guilt all these years was not her remorse over what she had done, but rather the lack of remorse. "I loved him, and love him still. I'm genuinely sorry for the pain my existence caused you, but I cannot regret meeting him."

For years she had struggled with her conflicted emotions. She had never lamented her feelings, only lamented the circumstances which placed their existence into a moral dilemma. She had married and been devoted to her husband, birthed him a daughter, and remained faithful to his memory. Her emotions were her own, and she never confided in him about Nicholas. For years Nicholas was her own most cherished secret. Until he reentered her life under the most dramatic circumstances possible.

Fate brought him back when she needed his assistance the most. He did not question her concern, nor hesitate he merely declared he would assist in escorting Erik away from danger. Despite the danger around them, she would be deceitful if she said her heart did not wish to leap out of her chest when she saw him after so many years apart. Correspondence has been a formal and respectable manner of keeping in touch, while remaining true to their respectable spouses.

And now their spouses were gone.

She glanced around her before beginning her journey back to her bedroom. The figures which had parted them before were no more but Nicholas was still very much a part of a world which was far beyond her reach. He was a nobleman and she was a former ballerina who had no titles to prestige attached to her name.

She remained very conflicted as to what he was offering her and what it would mean for him. It was difficult to discuss such intimate matters with anyone, and so she continued the debate within her. Seeking some assurance and guidance to the right path, whatever it may be.

 

*********************************************************************************************************************

The next morning, Tatiana was still in bed when her father paid her a visit. She gave him a lazy smile as she stretched in comfort.

"Good morning, father."

"Still in bed?"

"I was up reading." He smiled as he took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

"I hope you found your rooms acceptable."

"It was all as I left it." She returned his smile. "Thank you."

"Even when you were not here, I felt I could walk in and still sense your presence in these room." He chuckled. "It must sound foolish."

"It does not." She reached for his hand. "If anything it warms my heart."

"You are home at last." He placed his hand over hers. "That is all that matters now."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning?"

"I had hoped to escort you and Meg to out this morning."

"Oh?"

"I would like for her to attend a few events this season and I believe she will require a few new gowns."

"Why not take Madame Giry and Meg around the city?"

"I'm afraid Antoinette will hardly allow me to purchase anything for Meg if I bring her along." He laughed. "She believes I over indulge Meg."

"Then perhaps an outing alone with Madame Giry?" she suggested innocently.

"Subtleness does not suit you."

"I tried." She shrugged. "Perhaps a change in scenery would help you make some progress in your not so subtle courtship."

"Any subtleness is made purely for Antoinette's benefit as she is somewhat uncomfortable with Meg being aware of our previous attachment."

"So I've noticed."

"I do believe I'm making some progress, although I highly doubt she will have me."

"Perhaps the third time is the charm?"

"I doubt it. Antoinette continues to harbor some reservations as to our potential future together. I suppose I cannot fault her, although I selfishly wish for her to yield and accept to be my wife."

"I do not think she would still be here unless she was genuinely inclined to accept to your offer."

"I have loved her for years. First in sin-"

"It is not a sin to love."

"It is when you are married and your wife is not one you love." He shrugged. "I wronged your mother, and her ire was justified."

"Mother is no longer here, she has not been for years. Now is the time for you and Madame Giry to finally be together." She urged.

"I do not believe God intended for us to be together in this lifetime. Perhaps I should be content with the opportunity he provided me by allowing me to spend this beautiful time with her."

"You cannot always believe your fate to be in God's hands, father."

"You have broken away from your faith, and because you have you do not remember what it is to believe." He squeezed her hand gently. "Perhaps you need to stop blaming God for the suffering you have endured, and begin to start to blame the real person responsible."

"I do not hold you responsible, father. I may have turned away from God and resent him a little, but never you." She said as she hugged her father and buried her face against his chest. She could never hold anything against the one true constant love in her life, her father.

"I do not deserve you." He whispered.

"You deserve the world at your feet," she beamed at him. "Now go and try to win the hand of the woman you love."


	18. Instigate

Chapter Eighteen

Erik happened upon Nicholas as he prepared to descend the main staircase.

"You appear particularly lively this morning," he commented with a half smile, "I'm almost envious."

"Erik my boy," Nicholas beamed, "I feel energized with determination."

Nicholas never ceased to amuse him with his continued habit of addressing him as though he were a child. Had anyone else addressed him as their 'boy' he would interpreted the term as an insult, as it stood, it was rather endearing coming from Nicholas.

"I hope you accomplish whatever it is you are determined to do." He was nearly certain the unspoken issue at hand revolved around Madame Giry.

"Come Erik, let us enjoy breakfast together as it appears the rest of the household continues to remain in bed."

He said nothing only followed Nicholas in silent consent. His sleep has been sporadic at best, as was his habit. Weary from his resent less he welcomed the idea of a well served breakfast with gusto. Selfishly, and even childishly, he could not help but wonder if any of his previous agitators could claim to be experiencing such luxuries.

"Is something amiss?" Nicholas prodded gently, "You appear somewhat distracted this morning."

"All is well," he said with a slight shrug, "I briefly became lost in my thoughts."

As they descended the stairs they came upon one of the maids. She quietly greeted them before giving him a peculiar look. She gave him a slow smile, before hurrying up the stairs. It was not the typical glances he was accustomed to, and found himself puzzled over the expression.

"I was not aware you had made such an impression on the help, Erik." Amusement was evident in his voice.

"I've always made impressions," he replied perplexed at Nicholas's remark, "why are you amused?" They entered the dining room, with Nicholas motioning for him to take a seat.

"You are one of the most intelligent men I know," Nicholas motioned for the attending servants to leave the room, "far more intelligent than many noblemen I personally know." He paused as he watched the servants leave the room. "However, you are also, one of the most naïve in certain matters, and I mean no offence by the remark."

"I do not understand."

"No, you do not." Nicholas smiled as leaned back against his chair. "When we passed the young maid in the stairs, she gave you a certain look."

"She smiled at me."

"It was not simply a smile, my friend, it was a coquettish grin."

"I believe you are mistaken."

"I have spent enough decades on this earth to have learned a thing or two about woman." He smiled. "Granted, there is much I will never understand or come close to understanding, however, I do know the look one offers when they are interested in you."

"I do not believe you are accurate in your observations."

"Is it very difficult to believe a woman could be interested in you?"

"Exceedingly difficult."

"I will bold," Nicholas leaned in, "despite your physical affliction, I can assure you as far as appearance is concerned you most woman would consider you exceedingly handsome."

"You are not jesting."

"No I am not."

Nicholas was an honest man, yet his words were ringing false in his ears. He had never considered himself attractive by any stretch of any imagination. He took pride in his appearance, but it was a conscious attempt to conform some normality to his person.

"Erik, if I may ask," Nicholas appeared to measuring his words carefully, "please tell me if I'm out of line. How experienced are you in regards to courtship and-uh, such?"

His mortification manifested itself instantly. He felt himself blush profusely before looking away in utter embarrassment.

"I did not mean to make you uncomfortable," Nicholas persisted, "I merely wished to have some understanding of your experience."

"It has all been negative." He sputtered indignantly.

"Forgive me Erik it was not my intention to stir old wounds."

"There is no need to stir; those wounds have yet to heal."

"It has been some time now since you departed Paris," Nicholas cautiously spoke, "perhaps it is time you begin to distract yourself."

"I have plenty of activities to distract me."

"No," Nicholas gave a knowing grin, "I meant a different type of distraction."

"I do not understand."

"Erik, my boy, you are as innocent as a school boy." Nicholas grinned. "Naturally what is discussed between us, remains between us." He whispered. "It has been my experience, especially when we are forced to endure certain hardships of the heart, we can often find some comfort if only briefly in the arms of another."

"I don't know what to say." He was certain his face had turned into a crimson shade. The conversation was humiliating, yet he could not deny he was intrigued. He was not as innocent as Nicholas believed, but far more than he wished to admit.

"Let us say nothing then. When you are ready to discuss this matter, I shall be more than ready to for this conversation."

"Thank you."

"Do not be embarrassed," he continued as he sipped his drink, "you have done nothing to be ashamed of."

Exactly, Erik thought dejectedly, I've done nothing.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************

Tatiana walked alone down the halls of a home she knew all too well. Yet despite knowing every room and hidden path, she felt strangely alienated from her cherished home. Everything was the same, yet something had changed. No, she poignantly realized, not something but rather someone. She had changed.

She felt foreign in her own skin. Everything felt distinctly different, yet so very familiar. Even as she struggled to reclaim a balance within herself, she was all too aware some of the changes within her were irreversible. Nothing could ever be the same.

Stepping into the winter garden she paused before the fountain. As a child she had imagined herself to be the sculpted cherub fearlessly riding the swan into another world. Her fingers reached out to touch the sculpture.

"It's a beautiful piece." a silky voice tickled the back of her neck. Startled she turned to face an amused Erik standing directly behind her.

"Honestly Erik, your talent for maneuvering in silence is alarming."

"I'll take it as a compliment." He smiled.

"You would." She frowned at his amused expression. "You take pride in the most peculiar things."

"I'm a peculiar being." He circled her, raising one elegant eyebrow. "You are dressed differently."

She wasn't sure why she was pleased at his attention to her choice in wardrobe, but she was. Her outfit had been a conscious effort to dress a touch more regal. Although the changes had been subtle, she had opted for a dress of slightly finer fabric than she regularly wore. The design was simplistic with only black buttons adoring the white top from the very top of her neck to the edges of her waist where it met her skirt. Fitted to her exact measurements it hugged her slender frame very generously. As her only adornment she had selected a pair of pearl earrings along with a few pearl hair pens which were securely placed in the braid which wrapped around her bun.

"Do you not approve?"

"Far from it, it's quite becoming."

"Thank you," she smiled at his compliment, "I'm glad I meet your approval."

"I did not believe my opinion mattered."

"Of course it does. I'm sure you would be quick to point out any flaws had I committed any fashion faux pas."

"Indeed I would." His eyes met hers and for a moment, she found herself captivated by the intensity of his stare. She did not know why she normally avoided making eye contact only that his stare perturbed her for reasons she did not understand. "Luckily, you have an impeccable taste in fashion therefore I doubt I shall ever have to correct you." He smiled and despite herself she smiled in return.

"I did not expect to see you this morning." She admitted.

"Oh?"

"I believed you have been inclined to venture out and discover the city."

"Unlikely." He said simply. She understood his brief response meant to be an end to a topic he did not wish to discuss.

"A pity," she reached out to touch one of the roses which had bloomed, "perhaps another time then."

"You refrained from joining your father in his outing this morning." He turned his keen gaze to her. "You also have refrained from venturing out since our arrival."

"I sense there is a question you wish to ask." His lips twitched into a smirk.

"According to your own admission, you have not set foot in the city in years. Rather than explore the city or visit with acquaintances, you remain here. Quite interesting."

"Would you believe me if I said I have no friends." She gave a sad smile at his puzzled expression. "It is true."

"How can it be?"

"The girls I had believed to be my friends, ceased to be when I married."

"Are you certain they would not wish to be reacquainted with you?"

"Even if they were, I'm certain they would find my current personality lacking."

"You sound uncharacteristically pessimistic."

"I suppose some of your attributes have begun to wear off on me." He snorted at her remark, yet she felt he was merely teasing her with his mock indignation. "Should you not be out exploring the city yourself?"

"I'm afraid I'm neither inclined nor motivated to leave the confines of this magnificent home."

"Consider yourself motivated," she wrapped her hand around his arm, "let us partake in a tour around the city."

"Surely you jest."

"Not at all," she gently tugged on his arm, "is my companionship such a tedious task you would rather remain home why I venture out on my own?" He gave a soft laugh.

"I will confess I'm not inclined to leave the confines of these walls for many reasons; however your delightful companionship is significant motivation to lure me out."

"For a man who professes to have no social abilities," She grinned as she escorted him out of the garden, "you can be rather charming when you wish to be."

She was uncertain, but she could have sworn he had blushed at her words. Dismissing her curious thought, she instead began making quick mental notes of all the lovely places around the city Erik would be sure to enjoy.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Meg could not believe all the beautiful stores they had visited. Nicholas had showered both women with numerous gifts, ignoring her mother's pleas to cease his lavishness. Oh, how she wished he was her father! Her mother lavished affection on her but never the expensive gifts Monsieur Alexandrov was gifting her.

Although her mother continued to avoid the subject, Meg knew enough to realize whatever affection there had been between the two, was obviously still there. In fact, she could almost swear he was courting her mother. The thought of her mother with a suitor was very amusing, no matter how times she thought it over, she always giggled at the thought of her mother with a sweetheart.

She was certain if Christine was there, she would be tickled too. She missed her dear Christine. They had always shared every little detail about their lives with one another. Although Tatiana was very good to her, she did not share her trusting nature and refrained from divulging any personal information. She was always on guard, somehow unable to allow anyone to become too close. As a result their friendship at times seemed to be a one sided at times.

It was also difficult to see her spend more time with Erik. She knew Tatiana was only teaching Erik as she was teaching her, but her mother had confided in her that Erik and Tatiana were finally getting along enough to be considered friends. Why this upset her so much she was not entirely very sure. The thought that someone like Erik could earn the trust of Tatiana before her, perturbed her.

She no longer feared Erik as she once had, but she also did not feel completely at ease around him. Come to think about it, she was the perhaps the only person who felt awkward around him. The servants treated him just as they treated her; some of the maids even flirted shamelessly with him. She had seen more than one maid give Erik a rather flirtatious smile. It should not be completely shocking, after all were it not for his mask, Erik would be considered handsome, exceptionally so, if she were to be honest.

He was not the same man who had haunted the Opera house. He conducted himself with the same poise as Nicholas. His manners were immaculate and his intelligence was far superiors to hers. She had heard enough conversations between him and Nicholas to understand why they got along so well. They shared many attributes, with Erik lacking only the title and wealth Nicholas was blessed with. Perhaps if Christine had seen this Erik before things may have turned out differently.

Her mind drifted to her old friend. Christine had written to her over the last few weeks and often. She sometimes received up to three letters a week a very uncommon thing in their times, considering the distance.

She was in England with Raoul on their honeymoon; although from what she read it seemed to be more about business than pleasure. Her lines always carried a hint of longing, but she repeated in every letter how good Raoul was to her. The more she thought about it the more she began to think perhaps Christine was not as happy as she should be. She had an overwhelming urge to run home and write to her. She had written to Christine about the Alexandrov's but never mentioned Erik directly. It was something her mother had discouraged her from doing early on. She was to never tell Christine or Raoul of Erik's whereabouts. Raoul was still angry enough to have Erik captured and hung without thinking twice about it, and although Meg never thought she would wish otherwise, she didn't want him to be hanged. He was an intelligent man who had gone mad out of love, therefore as far as she was concerned he was just as sane as her. Love makes people some of the most desperate acts, or so her mother claimed.

"Meg are you done looking?" Her mother asked. Meg was standing in front of a candy shop and one glance from her mother told her to not even think about buying sweets.

"Yes, mama." she said with a slight pout. I never get to eat any sweets. She lamented as she rejoined her mother's side.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

He had been pleasantly surprised to find such an outing oddly pleasurable. They had spent the majority of the time in the carriage sightseeing. He had understood her choice of riding in the carriage rather than walking to be a gesture of kindness. Tatiana was tactful in her handling of situations, a trait commonly exhibited by her father. It was evident she had inherited many traits from her father, yet was distinctly different.

Staring at her partially shielded visage he noted her features were unquestionably attractive. He had seen many beautiful women in his life, yet Tatiana's beauty was uniquely alluring in a manner he could not quite grasp.

He was unsettled by his inability to adequately solve the perplexing riddle.

"You are brooding again." He detected a hint of amusement in her voice.

"I do not brood."

"Very well, you are an expert in languishing."

He snorted at her clever remark.

She was staring out the carriage window. He noticed her melancholy expression, one which had not previously been exhibited during their outing. He glanced outside the window to discover any particular cause for her sudden wistfulness and noticed an elaborate church.

"Is the church not to your liking?" he inquired, careful not to probe too far.

"The church itself is lovely," she remarked distantly, "it is the memories formed at the church I'm not fond of."

"A funeral?" he inquired.

"Close," the corner of her lips lifted slightly, "my wedding."

She rarely brought up her marriage. They never spoke of her marriage, or impending divorce. It was one of many matters they understood to be restricted to the confines of their own inner thoughts.

"Forgive me." He genuinely offered.

"There is nothing to forgive." She continued staring out the window, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. "I was barely sixteen, very ignorant and naïve about many things. Yet even then something inside of me protested sedately against the marriage."

"Our instincts are usually our best advisers."

"Indeed." She sighed. "Is it not funny how a handful of moments seem to leave permanent marks on our lives?"

Very funny indeed, he thought with some grimace.

"We all have painful memories we must live with." He gently offered. "I believe time is meant to help us move forward from such trials."

"Has it helped you?" She turned to look him directly in the eyes.

He paused to reflect on the question. Had it helped him? In many respects, his pain was still fresh yet in others, he felt he had indeed made some progress. He did not rage in pain any longer, he reflected upon it, and often. Perhaps not as fervently as he had during the first weeks, but he still thought of Christine. All of what could have been, and all that would never be.

"I do believe it is helping; but by no means can we forget nor should we forget our past, but rather utilize our experiences to guide us in our present and future."

"Wise words," she smiled kindly, "we all have our own heartaches to conquer."

"Can we ever conquer one's heartache?" He wondered out loud. "Or merely learn to live with the loss?"

"I do not know."

"Neither do I." He remarked honestly as he thought of the void he constantly sought to ignore. He had loved and lost, yet he continued on with the sting of rejection and a handful of stolen moments to reinforce his poignant loss.

He felt a slender hand squeeze his. He looked up to see Tatiana leaned forward with a soft expression of understanding reflected on her captivating eyes.

"We all have our sorrows," she said gently, "we may have experienced them alone, but we can at least find comfort in knowing our experiences have brought us to where we are now." His leather gloved hand captured hers. This thumb gently moved over her knuckles. He found innocent touch and gesture, oddly soothing and reassuring.

"Indeed they have." His voice dropped to a whisper. He made no movement to relinquish his hold on her hand. Enjoying the rare pleasure of a woman's touch, however innocent the touch was, it was a pleasure none the less.

"Erik?" He looked up and was promptly shaken from his thoughts. Her eyes contained a mixed expression of confusion and concern.

"I'm afraid I became lost in thoughts one more," he confessed, "Apologies."

"Do not fret. Our thoughts are our best companions." She withdrew her hand from his and he instantly found himself missing the warmth of her touch.

"Not always."

"I suppose you are correct." She grinned broadly. "Your companionship is proving far more pleasurable than my lone thoughts could have provided me this afternoon."

"I most heartily share your sentiments."

"At least we are finally seeing eye to eye." Her infectious laughter caused him to laugh as well as he wondered when he last laughed as often as he had in her presence. To his amazement, he found he could recall no such time.


	19. Awakenings

Chapter Nineteen

"Honestly Tatiana I do not know how I can ever go back to my old life in Paris after experiencing such a day of indulgence." Meg chatted unremitting. "Your father is so very kind and generous! Just look at all the lovely things he purchased for me."

Tatiana shook her head in amusement as she watched Meg hold her new gown up against her petite frame. Meg had arrived with the alleviation of a child. She envied Meg's ability to become deliriously happy over a few gifts.

"You will look beautiful when you wear it."

"Oh, Ana, can you imagine if I'm actually able to attend a ball?" Meg squealed. "It would be magical."

"You've attended masquerade balls before, have you not?"

"Well yes," she admitted, "but it was different. The entire event could have been magical had it not been for-"she abruptly stopped as she looked up in embarrassment. "I'm sorry; I should not have said anything."

"You are entitled to your opinion Meg."

"Mama would wring my neck if she heard me." Meg whispered. "She is always concerning herself over him. It is a little embarrassing actually."

"Your mother is very protective of Erik. There is nothing wrong with her concern. I find it rather motherly of her."

"I suppose it has become second nature to her." Meg shrugged. "I doubt Mama could ever truly stop concerning herself over his fate."

"You seem almost resentful." She raised an elegant eyebrow. "Even jealous, if I may be so bold."

"You think I'm jealous of him?" Meg laughed. "Honestly Ana you cannot be serious."

"I'm merely making an observation." She shrugged her shoulders. "He has given you no reason to mistrust him, yet I cannot help but notice you remain cordial yet distant towards him."

"I know I have not been very friendly, but you must understand it is difficult for me to be friends with someone I was terrified of only a few short months ago."

"I understand; believe me I do. Given your unique history, it is far from ideal but I wish you would try just a little more. I do not expect him to become your intimate friend, I just wish for you to be kind and receptive to any overtures." Meg gave her a curious look. "What?"

"Why a sudden interest in Erik all the sudden?"

"I merely believe considering our living arrangements, which will likely extend for some time, it would be wise for us all to live in harmony." She reasoned hoping logic would prevail. "I would like to be able to sit with you both without prolonged moments of tension between you two."

"Funny, a few weeks ago I would have said the same thing about you two." Meg titled her head at her. "You two are suddenly getting along rather well as of late."

"We had our differences, we resolved them." She said dismissively. "I fail to understand your tone."

"I simply do not see why you enjoy his companionship so much."

"Is it so difficult to believe he can be an entertaining person to engage?"

"I don't see what you find so fascinating about him. I doubt he ever discusses his past which is the most interesting thing about him. He is neither friendly nor engaging so yes, forgive me for finding it just a little difficult to believe he 'entertaining'."

"He is a very intelligent man. If you attempted to engage him you'd discover he could easily entertain you for hours on end."

"You certainly think very highly of him." Meg blinked in confusion.

"Erik is a genius. It should not be so very difficult to believe I would enjoy engaging him in conversations about various topics."

"It is difficult for me to believe you would rather sit with him than with me." Meg fumed.

"You cannot be serious," she frowned, "You really are jealous of him."

"I am not!"

"At least be honest with yourself."

"There is nothing for me to envy." She huffed.

"Do not be so childish Meg; it's hardly suitable for someone of our age."

"I'm only eighteen! A little immaturity is perfectly acceptable compared to your frosty attitude."

"That was uncalled for Meg."

"You enjoy pointing out my flaws but never look at your own."

"You know nothing." Her eyes narrowed at Meg.

"I know nothing because you tell me nothing!" Meg cried. "I have told you everything and hold back nothing, while you divulge nothing and what little you do, I have to force out of you!"

"Believe it or not, not everyone is capable of speaking of their troubles."

"Obviously!" Meg crossed her arms over her chest. "Friends share their troubles, and while I have freely discussed my troubles and concerns with you, never have you shown the same level of trust towards me."

"It is not a matter of trust, Meg." Her calm voice was laced with anger. "I wish you could understand-"

"Of course, I'm too stupid to understand. Not like Erik who is such a genius he understands everything so easily."

"That is not what I said."

"But it is what you meant!" Meg cried defiantly. "I know I'm not an intellectual, I never have been and likely never will be. I know what I am not, but I also recognize what I am. I'm a good loyal friend. That is not hard to understand. I would guard your secrets with the same code of honor all friends share. For all your knowledge you know nothing about being a friend."

A stone silence befell the room. Meg's mouth parted slightly as realization slowly took hold of what had just been said.

"Ana, I did not mean-." Meg attempted to apologize.

"No, Meg, you did mean every word." Her voice calmly replied as she made her way towards the bedroom door. "Forgive me, but I rather be alone at the moment."

"Tatiana, please don't leave, I really did not mean it." Meg cried after her but her words fell on deaf ears as she exited the bedroom, leaving Meg alone with her remorse.

******************************************************************************************************************

Nicholas frowned when the servant informed him Tatiana would not be joining them for dinner. He had also not missed little Meg's somber expression. He had hoped they would all be able to engage in a harmonious dinner, it would seem it was not be.

"You appear concern, Nicholas."

"Perplexed really," he turned to look at his Antoinette, "She appeared in good spirits this morning."

"She may just need some time alone."

"You think?"

"There is much weighing heavily on her mind these days," Antoinette gave him a reassuring smile, "allow her some privacy."He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.

"My voice of reason." He mumbled against her skin.

"Nicky." She whispered motioning with her eyes at Meg, who appeared oblivious to their display of affections. He gave Antoinette a quick wink before releasing her hand.

"Is something not your liking Meg?" Her startled little expression reaffirmed his earlier suspicions.

"No, everything is simply lovely."

"If the food is not your liking I could have the chef prepare you something else." He offered.

"None sense, Nicholas." Antoinette frowned. "The food is delicious. Meg does not require a separate meal."

"I really do not." Meg replied eagerly. "The food is divine, I was simply thinking."

"You are certain?"

"Yes, thank you for your continued kindness."

"Meg please finish your dinner." Antoinette instructed.

"Yes mama."

He wondered what on earth was occurring with the young girls of the house as proceeded to enjoy his meal.

******************************************************************************************************************

 

Meg's words had hurt, stung actually.

Her melancholy state was testament to it. She could not resent Meg's anger, for in truth she had spoken valid truths. Hurtful as they may be, she accepted her inability to conform to characteristics which had once come so naturally to her. She had friends before her marriage.

Meg had been the first person she had befriended since her marriage. Despite her best intentions it was evident her tentative steps at friendships had been failures.

She lingered in her bed, her face and arms buried in her pillow. Her thoughts took her to her social interactions which she had mastered, yet painfully realized, she was a master of deception. She could play the role of an intimate friend, but could not be one. Vladimir had thought her well.

Her throat contracted in pain as she fought to repress her sorrow. It would never be as it was once was. She will never be as she once was. She blinked in a slight surprise as she realized a tear had escaped her eye. How long had it been since she had wept?

"Manipulative bastard," she mumbled into her pillow as she wiped tears from her eyes. He had hindered her incapable of leading a normal life. She could not trust, not befriend, and perhaps not even love properly. Parts of her were incontrovertibly fractured.

Despite leaving Vladimir's side, she remained very much the same repressed girl who dreamed of returning home. Not simply returning home, but to the past she could never reclaim.

"By no means can we forget nor should we forget our past, but rather utilize our experiences to guide us in our present and future," Erik's words suddenly echoed in her mind. Morph our sorrows into lessons learned, she thought bitterly.

Had she learned her lesson? She could recall so much of her sorrows over the course of her marriage. The humiliation, the sense of hopelessness and her despair as slowly transformed into a shell of her former self.

She inhaled deeply and realized she was not alone. Speak of the devil.

"I suppose it would be too much to expect you to announce yourself before you enter my private rooms." She remarked dryly as she quickly wiped her eyes.

"You suppose correctly." A low and placid voice replied. She looked over her shoulder to see Erik standing near the door. "What gave away my presence?"

"I smelled your cologne." She admitted. "I believe we need to discuss the possibility of obtaining a collar with a bell attached for you."

"An amusing thought." He smirked as he slowly approached her. She turned her head back against the comfort of her pillow.

"If you do not mind can we refrain from our lessons this evening," she sighed, "I'm frankly not in the mood or of mind for them this evening."

"So I see." His gloved hand extended to offer her a handkerchief. She frowned at the material. "It is unsettling to see you so afflicted."

"It is unsettling to us both." She confessed as she took the handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. "Thank you."'

"I do not pretend to know the cause of your distress," Erik declared as he knelt beside the bed, "I merely know I do not wish to see you weep."

"I weep out of self pity." She quipped. "Foolish isn't?"

"We are all prone to moments of self-reproach; some more than others."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Very much so." She laughed at his confession. Realizing in how insignificant her troubles must appear when compared to his experiences.

"I appreciate your honesty." She gave a weary smile. "I'm sure you must think me frivolous."

"There are many words I could associate with you." He looked at her sharply. "Frivolous would not be among them." An uncomfortable silence followed as she became entranced by the intensity of his gaze. His expression was impossible to interpret, yet she felt her skin tingling with awareness and a sensation she could not quite name.

"I don't know if that is intended to be a compliment or not," she finally said, in hopes of ending the uncomfortable silence.

"It was," he whispered as his gloved hand reached up to cup her face. Transfixed his boldness, she remained frozen as his leather thumb wiped away her tear. "Do not weep for what cannot be undone." his voice was laced with a tenderness she had never detected before.

"You should not be here."

"I should not be here." He echoed in light mirth.

"You are breaking several rules of etiquette by being here," she warned with no true seriousness to her tone, "my reputation would be ruined if someone found you here."

"Ah, yes the all important reputation." He snorted as he removed his hand. "Nobility has a strange sense of propriety."

"Do we?" she played coy as she got up to her feet.

"You insist on observed rules for the world, yet break them at your own discretion."

"Exactly, at our own discretion. It may be difficult to believe Erik, but society is soundly and thoroughly made up hypocrites."

"Not difficult to believe at all." He said as he looked down at her. "Although I must confess I myself am partial to bending the rules from time to time."

"Somehow I find the fact very easy to believe." She does not bother to hide her amusement. His casual reference to his less than law abiding ways was oddly an exciting development. He had willingly shared a tidbit of information with her, and she was thrilled by the implication of the gesture. He was beginning to trust her.

"Is something wrong?" He inquired.

"No, I was simply allowing my thoughts to get the best of me," she gave a light smile, "why don't we go ahead with our lesson this evening."

"I did think you were of mind this evening."

"Have you not ever heard the phrase, misery loves company?"

******************************************************************************************************************

 

The evening has passed remarkably fast. He had not sought to intrude or linger long. He had merely elected to check in on her after overhearing the servants say Tatiana had excused herself from dinner. It had been unsettling to see her in such a sad state. He had been honest when he said he did not care to see her cry. It genuinely bothered him. She had been kind when no kindness was required. Attentive when she had no obligation to be. In short, he had been touched by her attentions. Much like her father, she sought to put him in ease and provide a sense of inclusion which had always been denied to him.

Everything was far too foreign for his senses and instincts to understand. One moment he was suspicious of everyone around him, the next he found himself longing for the very companionship he had previously been adverse against.

Nicholas and Tatiana were aside from Antoinette, were his only companions in the world. Each provided him with unique personalities he honestly enjoyed engaging. Although he would be the first to admit he valued the friendship Nicholas and Tatiana had extended to him, it was by no means comparable to one forged long ago with Antoinette.

Antoinette Giry was the one constant reminder of his past. Only with her could he even mention the past, the Opera house, his music, and Christine. He closed his eyes at the sudden ache that touched his heart.

Christine was simply the wound that would never truly heal. Her name alone brought wave of emotions forward. He damned himself because he could never damn her. He loved her too much to wish any harm to her. He knew he could not have her, yet he blamed himself for driving her away.

Whenever he and Antoinette breeched the subject of Christine, she never failed to breach the subject with refined caution. She kindly claimed he had done the right thing, and been the better man for it. He never thought of it as doing the right thing, he always thought of it as giving her happiness. Happiness she never would have found at his side.

He was well aware of Meg's correspondence with her, yet he never inquired. Christine was in the past, there was no going back, and he accepted that fact. Accepting her departure from his life did not lesson his love or pain, in fact it amplified it. For it removed all hope of ever seeing his Angel of Music again.

His sorrow was his own. Thankfully he could mourn his loss in private. Antoinette did not inquire often, and Nicholas had enough tact to leave the matter be. Tatiana, much like her father, appeared to understand his sorrow yet have enough sense to know it was not a matter he wished to discuss.

Tatiana he had discovered to be as enigmatic as he. Their acquaintanceship he could concede was odd, expect they both shared much in common. Neither wished to discuss their past; nor any of the emotional turmoil which had resulted from it.

Their mutual agreement had been beneficial for them both. He had no desire to discuss his past, and neither did she. They had enough intelligent conversations to sustain them for hours on end. Yet, he had become more and more intrigued to be point where he craved to know more about her.

He yearned to know what had occurred, what could have persuaded her to leave her husband. He was no fool; a woman no matter the status, wealth or title would never divorce her husband simply because she was unhappy. The very notion was appalling and taboo for many. The scandal surrounding the divorce and the aftermath was enough for most women to simply resolve themselves to the card life had dealt them. Yet Tatiana had not, she had decided to break away from the unhappy union prepared to face it all for her freedom.

He would have given her freedom, with gusto. The idea of disposing of her husband had lingered in his mind. It would not have been the first time he had eliminated a problem. What was one more on his conscious? It would have repaid his debt to both Nicholas and Tatiana. How easy it would have been to simply make her a widow and avoid the scandal all together, but alas she had declined his offer and instead elected to have a favor owed to her.

The Alexandrov's had given him much; far more than he could ever adequately repay. His gratitude was such he doubted he would ever refuse any favor Tatiana or Nicholas could ask of him.

He knew his attitude towards them wasn't always the best, he also realized they worried about him, although, truth-be-told, there was not much to worry about. He had made peace with his demons at least for now.

Inhaling deeply, he turned over on the bed as he pushed aside his exhausting thoughts and began to slowly drift off to a much needed and desired sleep.

******************************************************************************************************************

 

Her delicate small hands caressed his shoulders as his arms wrapped themselves around her slender form. She melted against him; his hands began to caress her back, his fingertips gently tracing the pattern of her dress which lead to exposed skin. He inhaled her scent, her sweet unique scent which had intoxicated his senses for so long.

"Angel," she whispered against his ear sending a shiver down his spine, "love me."

His lips curled into a smile as she dipped her head backwards giving him access to her neck. He placed tentative kisses along her neck. Torn between desire and fear, he savored the foreign sensations arising from simple skin to skin contact.

He began to slowly kiss a down her collarbone, pulling on the material of her blouse desperate for access.

She captured his face between her hands. She looked at her with a started expression. Partially out of confusion, partially out fear she would ask him to stop. She smiled before brazenly placing her lips against his in a fiery kiss.

"I have dreamed of this for so long," he whispered against her lips, "so very long."

"So have I." She echoed as she began to pull on his shirt, her hands finding the skin beneath the fabric.

He could not breath. Her scent, her kiss, not her touch. It was far more than he was capable of handling. He returned her kiss with a zealousness that startled her out of her gentle exploring.

"Christine, I love you." He whispered as he pulled away slowly opening his eyes to look upon her beautiful glowing face. His brows came together in confusion as instead of seeing two familiar chocolate colored eyes, he looked into two distinctly beautiful cornflower eyes.

His eyes snapped open as panic and humiliation jolted him from his sleep. He was breathing slightly harder than normal, and he could feel a few strands of sweat dripping down his face. He ran his hands over his face.

"Merde!"


	20. Culpability

Chapter Twenty

Tatiana stood before her bedroom window, observing as the snow continued to descend on the city. The weather had cooled considerably over the past several days. Although, the layer of snow that had befallen the city added a certain whimsical beauty to her surroundings, she realized not everyone appreciated their chiller weather. 

Madame Giry and Meg had taken to remaining indoors rather than venturing out. Unaccustomed to the extreme cold, they preferred to remain indoors near the fireplaces. Her father appeared to prefer remaining indoors if only to be beside his most special guest. A small grin formed as she thought of her father’s courtship. Granted, he had never made any secret of his intentions, yet his pursuit had become less subtle. 

It never ceased to amaze her how one person could be so utterly affected by another’s presence it literally brighten their entire façade. Despite Madame Giry’s best attempts at masking her emotions, it was difficult to ignore the adoring glances she would bequeath to her enamored pursuer. 

If anyone deserved to find happiness together it was Madame Giry and her father. A small smile touched her lips as she imagined two finding that happiness at last in the autumn of her their lives.

“Do you care to share what you find so amusing?” Startled, she turned to see Erik standing behind her. 

“For the love-“she fumed, “How can you always sneak up on me without making a sound.”

“An acquired talent,” he shrugged innocently, “one I have perfected.”

“I doubt you would not be as amused if I had startled you.” 

“A very unlikely event,” he smirked, “now, dare I inquire what had you so amused?”

“You have no idea what talents I have hiding up my sleeve,” he raised an elegant eyebrow as he appeared to restrain an amused smirk, “as for my thoughts, well I was merely thinking of father’s courtship of Madame Giry.”

“I do not doubt you have many talents up your sleeve,” he gave a bemused smile; “however I doubt you will be able to take me off guard.” 

“I suppose I shall just have to prove you wrong.” She could not help but notice the small lines that appeared around his eyes as he smiled. He has a beautiful smile, she noted. It was a stark contrast to his usual melancholic expression. 

“You approve of your father’s intentions?”

“I wish to see him happy. If anyone deserves to be happy, it is he.” 

“What of yourself?” 

“I’m content.” 

“Are you really?” 

“A year ago, I dreamed of returning home. I would look towards the north and vividly imagine the household staff going about with their daily duties as my father silently worked in his study.” She gave him a small smile. “There is no need to imagine anymore.” She motioned at her surroundings. “For I am where I always longed to be.”

“I do not doubt you are content to be here, but are you genuinely happy?”

Was she happy? She thought back to the last several months. She felt secure and surrounded by a warm atmosphere she had not experienced since her marriage. Yet despite the warmth offered by those around her, she could not deny her own sentiments were far from ideal. Concern over the future and lament over the past, were very much her present. Even she could concede her sentiments were far from joyous. 

“No, I suppose I’m not.” She admitted as she turned to his understanding gaze. “Dare I ask the same question of you?”

“I do not know what happiness is,” her gaze softened at his words, “yet I can honestly declare, I’ve never felt as appeased as I have these last few weeks.” 

“Perhaps it’s a start to a more gratified life.”

“I do believe you may be correct.” He smiled and for a moment, she could have sworn she saw a hint of genuine glee in his eyes. 

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

Meg pulled her shawl over shoulders as she settled before the fireplace in her bedroom. The weather had taken a sharp turn from lovely to downright, frigid. Nicholas claimed it would become colder still and she frankly did not believe she would survive if his words proved true. 

Her ill mood was not only hampered by the dismal weather but by the lack of companionship. Tatiana had remained distant. Although, they dined together daily, she never approached her beyond a formal greeting. Her distancing hurt almost as much as her own guilt. She could acknowledge to herself Tatiana had made fair points, yet in the end it did not matter whether or not Tatiana had been correct or not. Tatiana had not deserved to be attacked. Shamed by her childish and spiteful words, she had lacked the courage to seek forgiveness. Without Tatiana as a regular companion she had been forced to vie for her mother’s attentions, which was currently no easy feat. 

At least the help had been receptive to her tentative overtures at establishing conversation. Although she understood some Russian, it was hardly enough hold an effective conversation. Fortunately, some of the house staff were fluent in French and more often than not she would summon one of them when she required anything. 

She looked into the fire and wondered if it had begun to snow in Paris. The winters in Paris had always seemed warmer and festive. Even when they lacked money to buy gifts, she and Christine would venture into the stores and admire all the lovely trinkets which seemed far out of their reach. Glancing around at the splendor around her she noted with some sadness, the entire splendor in the world was hardly satisfying when it was experienced alone. 

“I wish you were here Christine.” She mumbled sadly as she retreated to her childhood memories for warmth. 

***************************************************************************************************************************************************

Antoinette’s eyes narrowed as the flirtatious maid appeared particularly attentive to Erik as she served them their tea. It was not the first time she had noticed the girl overstepping her place. Nicholas has laughed off her concerns claiming the attentions would help Erik's confidence. She failed to understand the humor in the situation. 

Erik’s wounds were still fresh. She would not have him falsely illusioned, only to be maliciously jilted. One’s heart could only tolerate so much, yet Erik had endured more than his share of disappointments. Her concern lay chiefly on the fragile state of his mind as much as his heart. 

She was well aware of Erik's limited interactions with women. As a youth, she had watched him gaze at many ballerinas from afar. Discreetly from the shadows, always refraining from approaching them, yet the longing in his eyes remained. 

Whether out of respect or embarrassment, he never attempted to discuss the fairer sex with her. Uncomfortable with the prospect of having to discuss the physical dynamics of intimacy between the sexes, she had welcomed his silence on the matter. Only now did she come to understand how much hindering she had inadvertently caused by her 

“You may leave.” She snapped at the maid. The young girls smile faded as she quickly retreated from the room. 

“You were a slightly harsh with her don't you think?” Erik reached for his cup. 

“She was a little fresh don't you think?” she raised a challenging eyebrow.

“I find her attentive.” He stated dismissively as he met her unwavering stare. 

“I'm sure you do.”

“I do not appreciate your accusatory tone.” 

“Erik, I wish for you to be cautious.”

“You care to elaborate?”

“In regards to women.” He mouth parted slightly as his eyebrows came together in confusion. “Do not allow yourself to lead astray by a flattering glance.”

“You are serious.” . 

“Very.”

“My dear Antoinette, you may not be aware however, this,” he motioned to his face, “has hindered my life considerably especially in regards to the fairer sex.” 

“Hold your sarcastic tongue for someone else,” she warned, “I speak frankly with you because it has not escaped my notice how forward some of the maids have been behaving towards you. You may find it hard to believe or accept, yet I tell you this as a woman not your friend. Despite your belief your physical affliction has rendered you unattractive, in actuality you are a very handsome man.”

“You will understand my skepticism at your words.”

“As you will understand I would never mock or deceive you.” She noted his frown as he looked away. It was not difficult to understand his reluctance to accept her words. “You have more qualities than you are willing to give yourself credit for.”

“One maid’s flattery, genuine or not should hardly be cause for you to become concerned.” He declared after a long pause. “I cannot help but think there is more to this matter.”

“We are both adults, and I believe we have enough trust between us to be forward, would you not agree?”

He raised a dubious eyebrow, before slowly nodding his head. 

“I realize you are a man who has been sheltered from certain aspects of the world and its vices.” She cleared her throat nervously. “And while you have every right to seek certain attentions it is critical you exercise caution and restraint if needed when engaging in physical intima-“

“You cannot seriously be attempting to have this conversation with me.” Erik glared as a touch of red began to appear on his exposed cheek. 

“Erik, a man has certain-“

“Stop.” He warned.

“Natural needs which will stir -“

“Stop!” He slammed his hand on the table. 

“Erik!”

“This is hardly a proper conversation to be having!” He hissed. 

“It is an overdue conversation.”

“According to whom?” He snapped. 

“What do you mean?” she frowned at his words.

“Why do you presume I need this moral lesson from you? Do you not trust me to make my own decisions pertaining to my personal life?”

“There is a difference between a personal romantic attachment and physical intimacy.”

“I’m well aware.”

“You are?” Her mouth opened slightly in awe. “Erik, are you telling me you have –“

“My carnal history is my own.”

“Do not be lewd!” She hissed. 

“I’m not the one seeking to discuss prurient matters over tea!” She could feel her face coloring considerably. 

“I apologize.” She looked down at her hands. “I was simply concern about you.”

“I appreciate the concern but I can assure you, my virtue requires no protection. If anyone in this table should be concerned about their virtue-“

“Erik!” She stood up from the table unable to suppress her mortified expression.“The very suggestion is repugnant!” 

“Do sit down Antoinette.” He motioned for her to sit. “We both know you would never do anything.” He grinned. “At least not without the honors of a wedding band.”

“Oh you –“She flung her napkin at him as she walked away, his mocking laughter ringing in her ears.

 

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

Nicholas sat besides his daughter in the ballroom. He had asked her to join him to discuss preparations for their annual ball. As she had been unable to assist for the previous two, he was especially keen on making this event particularly memorable.  
His only child’s perplexing emotional state had not gone unnoticed. He had believed after a few weeks of respite, her spirits would return. Unfortunately, time had not yielded the desired results. Her silent and reflective demeanor was a stark contrast to the spirited and joyous girl he had raised. It was a bitter reminder of the suffering she had endured during her marriage, and of his failings as a parent.

“How lovely it will be,” Tatiana she glanced around the room, “at least I believe it will be.”

“I will make sure of it.”

“You have never thrown a gathering that was not memorable.”

“Yet you seem to recall the last ball you attended with particular fondness.” 

“It was memorable for many reasons.” 

“Would one of those reasons be Alexander Orloff?”

“Yes.” She gave a small smile. 

“You have not inquired about him.” He cautiously measured his words. “He has always inquired after you.” He felt her tense beside him. 

“He did?” 

“Often,” he turned to look at her, “He is making a name for himself in the regiment.”

“Is he?”

“Word of your arrival is bound to reach him.”

“I fail to see how it would be of any importance to him.”

“Don’t play dense, Tatiana, it’s beneath you.” 

“What do you wish for me to say?” 

“The truth.”

“Our lives have taken different paths. I merely state the obvious. I resolved myself to the fact some time ago. I have moved on, and he has likely moved on as well.”

He noted the conviction in her tone. A set determination he was very familiar with. Her response appeared rehearsed, a mantra she likely had repeated to herself over the course of the last two years. It was a practical lie, one which could have deceived anyone, except him. 

“How different it all could have been if I had yielded consent to him.” He sighed as he looked away from her. “He was genuine in his affections for you.”

“Do not dwell on the past father, for we can only hurt ourselves by reflecting on what could have been.” 

“The guilty can do nothing but reflect on their mistakes.” He squeezed her hand. “Orloff would have been good to you, of that I am sure.”

“I do not doubt it.” She remarked with a sorrowful expression. “Yet it is easy to think fondly upon paths not taken rather than the thorny ones experienced.”

“I know you have powerful reasons for seeking an annulment of your marriage-“

“Father please,” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I do not like what you are insinuating.”

“Let me finish,” he urged gently, “Your reasons for seeking an annulment are valid and do not think I would judge you for I am not one to judge. I merely wish for an honest response. If Orloff was to present himself to you and declare himself to you, would 

you accept him?”

“I could not.” 

“Could not?” 

“I am not the girl he once held in great affection father.”

“Tatiana you are still-“

“No father I am not. Look at me.” She motioned to herself. “I’m a shell. Whatever affection he may have possessed is for a person who longer exists.”

“You say this because you have yet to recover from your difficult ordeal.”

“There are wounds which have let their mark not on my flesh but on my very person. I can never again be the girl I was.” She closed her eyes as she appeared to fight back tears. “The naïve and innocent girl who left this house on your arm in her bridal attire, is forever lost. Do you not understand? There are things which cannot be undone.”

Unable to offer any words of comfort he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a sheltered embrace. He could offer no remedy to her inner conflict except reassurance of his continued love and support, as his own heart contracted with bitter guilt.


End file.
